It's the Great Pumpkin, Cal Lightman
by Calculated Artificiality
Summary: It's a Halloween story! There'll be Emily scheming, pumpkin patching, pumpkin carving, baking, movie watching, probably kissing and and lots more! The writers won't let them be cute together, well this author will! COMPLETE!
1. Invitation Only

_A/N: Hello, faithful readers! May I now present for your reading enjoyment "It's the Great Pumpkin, Cal Lightman," a Lie to Me fanfiction extravaganza presented in multiple chapters, the specific number of which has yet to be determined._

_Yes. What's going on re: the show kinda sucks, right? Well, that's no reason that we over here at can't have a little ~fun~ with these characters. The writers won't make 'em do what we want them to? Fine. Then ~I~ will._

_The title will make more sense later-if it doesn't make sense to you right now. Also, this is my first time writing a character that is not Cal or Gillian (minus one line of dialogue in my last fic from Loker), so if it's not up to par, I'm sorry. This fic is here for a little bit of fun before Halloween._

_/the longest A/N evar.  
_

_Disclaimer: Fine. I guess I'll put a real disclaimer here. I don't own them. If I did, Cal would've gotten punched a LOT harder last episode._

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Emily Lightman brought a rush of cold D.C. air with her as she bustled into the Lightman Group building.

Her long curly brown hair was swept up into a ponytail atop her head and a stylish black jacket covered her red and black plaid shirt. The bottom of her jeans was slightly wet from the rain and her black rain boots held a collection of droplets. She shook her umbrella, fumbling with it slightly as she placed it in the bin next to the front desk.

Her eyes surveyed the expanse in front of her and she hoped they'd land on the person she had come to see. Finding the halls empty save for a few interns, she continued down the hall, her ponytail swaying good-naturedly behind her.

As she approached the particular office she sought, she began to haphazardly unravel her scarf from around her neck. Finding the door to the office half closed, she rapped on it softly while peeking her head through.

Dr. Gillian Foster looked up from her computer at the tentative knock to see the teenager peering through the door, her wide brown eyes shining.

"Emily!" Gillian greeted, rather surprised too see her visitor—a genuine smile came across her face, "Hi."

"Hey, Gill," Emily said returning the smile and adding in a little wave. "Mind if I come in?"

"Sure!" Gillian offered with a slight indication of her head.

Emily finished unwrapping her scarf and she took the liberty of setting her yellow messenger bag along with her scarf on the floor near the door of Gillian's office.

"Sit!" Gillian offered, somewhat awkwardly, but Emily just smiled and obliged.

"It's _pouring_ out there!" Emily said emphatically, making herself comfortable in the chair.

Gillian took in the teenager's rain speckled jeans, "I can tell," she said as she closed her laptop and leaned back slightly in her chair. She had been working on the budget for the Lightman Group and it had just begun to give her a headache, so she was thankful for Emily's visit as it served the perfect distraction. "I've never really gotten used to the absolute coldness in the winters here—or the wetness."

Emily laughed, "Hey, I was _born_ here and I'm not used to it, either!"

Gillian laughed slightly at this, "So, you come straight from school?"

"Yep." She nodded affirmation.

"How was it?" Gillian asked, making small talk.

"It was fine. I had a math test. Think I did pretty well." Emily shrugged.

A silence fell between the two that had the potential to be very awkward. However, these two people were actually quite comfortable with each other. Gillian had always loved Emily, she had always felt at ease around her, and Emily had always felt a specific type of respect for Gillian—that respect eventually manifested love. The moment could have been awkward, save for love.

"You looking for your dad? He's out on a case." Gillian thought that perhaps Emily was looking for Cal.

"No, actually, I came to see you." Emily responded, a slight bit of mischief making its way into her eye and into her voice.

Gillian regarded the girl with exaggerated suspicion. She had known Emily long enough to know that _something _was coming. She simply didn't know precisely what.

"Oh, you did?"

"Yeah." Emily said matter-of-factly, trying to suppress one of her patented smiles.

"Okay…" Gillian said cautiously.

"We haven't seen each other in awhile and I just wanted to…check in."

"Oh you did, did you?" A smile came to Gillian's lips as she said this.

"Yeah." At Gillian's pointed look she added, "Can't I stop by just to say hi?" Emily tried to look incredulous, but she just looked adorable.

"Sure you can." Gillian's tone suggested in no uncertain terms that she didn't believe the teenager's guise for one second. She turned her head slightly to the right in an attempt to guess what had actually brought Emily to her office on this October afternoon.

Emily shook her head and laughed, "You've been working with my dad too long. You used to be so trusting!"

Gillian laughed outright at that remark. "That is too true, Emily. That is too true."

Emily beamed at Gillian before she shifted awkwardly in her chair. "So…. are you still dating that guy… what's his name? Dave?"

Emily didn't miss the look of shock that came across Gillian's features, but she did miss the slight one of hurt. Gillian missed Dave—he had walked out of her life unexpectedly without a proper goodbye and she still thought about him often and missed him more than that. She hated the empty side of her bed and she hated waking up alone. And she had to get her own yogurt in the morning, which she was certainly not a fan of.

Emily was looking at Gillian expectantly, eyes wide, "That was quite the transition." Gillian stated simply, no sign of irritation in her voice. She found it impossible to be irritated with Emily Lightman, blunt teenager extraordinaire.

Emily shrugged, "I'm my father's daughter," the twinkle ever present in her eyes.

Gillian laughed, "That you are." She picked up a pen from her desk and began to fidget with it—"And to answer your question, no. I'm not seeing Dave anymore."

"Oh, okay." Gillian observed Emily's reaction—the corners of her mouth twitched upwards briefly and Gillian realized that Emily had just flashed happiness.

The strangeness of this conversation did not escape Gillian and she found herself even more curious than she previously had been about where it was heading, "Why?"

"Oh, just wondering," Emily said as she idly picked at her fingernails which were coated in black nail polish. Black was usually not the go-to nail color for Emily Lightman, but it was October and Halloween was quickly approaching—and it was a holiday that the teenager wholly embraced.

"Mm-hmm." Was Gillian's reply.

An air of fun hung in between them as they looked at each other, both with eyes smiling. Gillian always felt carefree around Emily—Emily just had a very uplifting personality for which Gillian was always thankful.

"So…" Emily began innocently, playing with the button on her black jacket, "are you doing anything for Halloween?"

Realization swept over Gillian Foster as the question hit her ears. So _That's_ what Emily was up to.

Gillian considered the question for a moment. Growing up, Halloween had always been one of her favorite holidays. She'd had a sweet tooth, she'd suspected, from the moment she was born, and so any holiday that centered primarily around candy was an excellent holiday as far as she was concerned. Plus, it seemed to be the only holiday on which she couldn't remember her parents fighting. Except one year when the entire family—grandmothers, aunts, uncles, everyone almost came to blows. Halloween wasn't really the same after that. She'd stopped going trick-or-treating when she was 12, but she still held a very particular fondness for the holiday in her heart.

The last few years were spent with Alec. There had been years where they'd gone to parties, enjoying the company of other couples. But as the other couples had children, the all-inclusive couples-only parties grew thin until they became virtually extinct.

Even still, Halloween had been fun. But, Gillian mused, she could divide their experiences as a couple concerning the holiday into two categories—pre-Sophie and post-Sophie. The last couple of years were the post-Sophie years. They had placed a bowl of candy in front of their door with a polite note suggesting the children take one piece of candy, gone to dinner and come home to go to bed early. Alec had insisted that it would be too painful to see the various children in their adorable Halloween costumes after having lost Sophie. Gillian hadn't agreed with Alec—it was one of the first times she realized how _different_ they truly were. Alec wanted to avoid his pain and his grief as though they didn't exist—Gillian wanted to embrace her pain and her grief and deal with them so she could move on. But, Gillian, ever the good wife, went with how Alec felt and ignored her own desires.

For a brief moment, and although she couldn't say quite why, Gillian considered lying to Emily. She mentally chastised herself for the thought, but it had come anyway.

"I don't think I have anything planned." She said, giving a semi-solid answer but still allowing for some wiggle room.

Emily seemed to find this funny as she chuckled a little bit, obviously recognizing what Gillian was doing. "_Well_," she said dramatically, "You should come over and hang out with my dad and me!"

Gillian stifled a groan. She had known that's why Emily was asking but a part of her had been hoping it was for some other reason.

"Emily…." Gillian said in a cautionary tone.

"Come on! It'll be fun! We'll carve pumpkins and watch movies and hand out candy to the kids!"

At Emily's last promise, Gillian's heart lurched. She felt an odd feeling climb into her body and it felt like a strange mixture of sadness, excitement, longing and happiness all rolled into one.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea." She replied, though she couldn't help but smile at the excited expression Emily was wearing.

The teenager's face fell. "What? Why not? You'd rather sit alone at home?" Emily tried to maintain a playful tone but the hurt she felt at the idea of Gillian slighting her shone through.

"Em, it's not that…" Gillian was quick to reassure.

"What, then?" Emily questioned as she folded her arms across her chest in a somewhat defensive posture.

Gillian wasn't sure how to proceed—she felt uncomfortable saying what she needed to say—"I just…" she faltered, "I don't think your mother would be too pleased with that."

Gillian knew how Zoe liked family time—it was sacred to her and it didn't matter that she and Cal and been divorced for years. The Lightmans spent the holidays as a family. Gillian had overheard Cal ask Zoe many years ago if Gillian could join them for Easter. It was a mundane holiday, so to speak, but Alec was out of town and Gillian would be spending it alone. Cal took it upon himself to try to rectify that. Gillian had been coming down the hall when she heard raised voices coming from Cal's office and she quickly got the gist of what he and Zoe were arguing about. There was _no_ way that Gillian Foster was going to be present at a Lightman Family Holiday—not even one so casual as Easter.

No, Zoe would _flip_ if Gillian spent the holiday with the Lightmans. Not that Gillian wanted to spend any time with Zoe, but she could tell Emily wanted her there.

"What? That's why?" Emily uncrossed her arms, "Then it's totally not a problem! My mom's going to be out of town—she's working on a case, so she'll be gone the whole weekend, Halloween included." Emily looked at Gillian with a self-satisfied expression on her youthful face.

Gillian still hesitated, "I don't know, Em…"

The source of Gillian's hesitation was unclear even to herself. She considered her reluctance, but she couldn't quite place it. Well, that was a half-truth. If she really cared to place it, she most certainly could. It had to do with one Cal Lightman and the feelings that the man stirred up within every part of her being. At that moment, however, she did _not _care to place it and so she brought her attention back to the matter at hand: to spend Halloween with her favorite father-daughter duo, or to spend it by herself?

Emily regarded her with a look of slight suspicion, before widening her big brown eyes, "Oh, come on, Gill, please? It'll be fun."

Gillian crossed her arms in front of her chest and examined Emily. The excited and hopeful expression she wore was adorable and near comical. She couldn't quite deny the teenager despite the slight desire she had to do so—Emily was just too _cute_, and in all honesty, she was just too important to Gillian.

Gillian sighed before fixing Emily with what she hoped was a semi-stern look, "I don't know, I'll think about it."

She could tell by Emily's reaction that the look was not, in fact, stern. Emily beamed, "Okay!" she rushed out excitedly.

"Hey, I said maybe." Gillian reminded, "Not yes."

Emily got up from the chair, "yeah, I know," she said, clearly taking Gillian's 'maybe,' as a 'yes,' anyway.

Gillian just laughed slightly and shook her head—She couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness at seeing the excitement her response provided the teenager.

"Well, I better get going," Emily moved to pick up her belongings. As she strapped the messenger bag across her body she beamed at Gillian, "It was good to see you! And if I don't see you before, I'll see you on Halloween!" Emily laughed and turned to leave, tossing out a "Bye, Gill!" over her shoulder.

Gillian shook her head and reached to open her computer, "Bye, Emily." She returned.

She tried to focus on the budget on the screen but found that she couldn't do it. She felt queasy at the idea of spending Halloween with the Lightmans. But she also felt excited. She chastised herself as she realized that much like Emily, she, too, had taken her own 'maybe,' for a 'yes.' She gazed at the spreadsheet in front of her, none of it really registering. She supposed she could find a way to get out of it if she wanted to.

Her heart jumped up into her throat and then sunk back down into her stomach when she realized that she didn't _really_ want to get out of it. She remained unconvinced that it was a good idea, but her heart simply didn't seem to care.

Chuckling to herself, she turned her attention back to the task at hand: keeping the head of the Lightman Group above murky financial water.

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_TBC._

_My goal is to finish this story by All Hallow's Eve._

_in the upcoming chapters we have- father/daughter pumpkin patch patching, pumpkin carving, awkwardness, movies, and tons more stuff._

_click that button. don't be a stranger. kthxbai._


	2. Pumpkin Patching

_A/N: well, hello! Welcome to chapter two of this fic. where you will find Cal and Emily Lightman engaged in father daughter pumpkin patching._

_Honestly, it's getting harder and harder to write this stuff the more i think of the past few episodes—so, i've been dwelling in the season two eps i have on my computer in an effort to still regard cal as human._

_anyway!_

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It's the Great Pumpkin, Cal Lightman—Chapter 2.

The clouds loomed threateningly in the air as Cal and Emily Lightman walked into Pumpkin Pete's Patch. Emily had a grin plastered on her face as the yellow hay crunched under her black boots.

Cal Lightman, clad all in black, felt the hay crunch under his shoes as he focused his gaze on his daughter. The pink sweatshirt she was wearing made her cheeks seem pinker than usual and the pure excitement evident on her face added to her youthful beauty. He felt a lump creep into his throat and he glanced quickly glanced away into the sea of orange before them—it was becoming more and more evident every day that his baby was becoming a young woman. She was no longer a child and it wasn't hard for him to admit that he absolutely hated it—she was growing up and sometimes that fact alone began to break his heart.

He tried to cast that thought out of his mind and glanced back at her again. She was chattering away about one of her friends and he watched as her eyes grew larger than normal as she took in the multitude of pumpkins. His heart swelled as he recognized a feeling of thankfulness—Yes, Emily was certainly growing up, but Emily was certainly not too old to partake in and experience pure joy at a pumpkin patch with her old man.

Cal grasped onto that bit of knowledge and was thankful for it because it allowed him to still see her as part little girl.

He heard Emily stop talking and she turned to look at him "Are you even listening to me?" She asked.

Cal met her gaze and offered her a wry smile "Sure I am, love."

Emily rolled her eyes slightly. She was one of a few people who could spot when her dad was lying, and she also caught the strange expression on his face—it was one of reverence, but she didn't know how to name it so she just asked, "Uh, dad, why are you looking at me like that?"

He shook his head slightly, "Just marveling." He replied, reaching up to pinch her cheek.

She gave a resounding "Dad!" but his gesture made her laugh nonetheless.

Cal laughed then, too, "Right, then, let's go pick out a pumpkin, shall we?" He directed as he flung his arm around Emily and they began walking down a row of pumpkins.

Cal smiled and took a deep breath enjoying the fresh Virginia air. He and Emily had been coming to this very pumpkin patch for twelve years now. It held some of his fondest memories—some of them surprisingly even included his ex-wife. Zoe went with them a few times and they'd walk around the pumpkin patch holding hands and watching their only daughter run from pumpkin to pumpkin examining it from all angles. Emily was always so thorough in picking out her pumpkin—she would first examine it with her eyes and then she'd tentatively reach out and smooth her little hand over the surface. One year, when Emily was about five years old he and Zoe had been engaged in conversation and when they glanced to Emily they had found her actually licking a pumpkin. They had both called out and rushed over to her and she froze, mid-lick and stared up at them wide-eyed and semi-frightened. They had tried to be at least slightly stern with her (they didn't want her going around licking pumpkins, after all), but the sight of her and the idea of it all was just so adorable that they ended up laughing instead.

Even towards the end of their marriage, the pumpkin patch was always neutral ground for Cal and Zoe. Cal Lightman held this place in a specific type of reverence. It was, for all intents and purposes, hallowed ground.

That's why he loved the fact that his daughter still wanted to come here with him.

Eventually, he and Emily split up inside the pumpkin patch, carrying on the tradition they'd developed when she was 12. Emily was to find the perfect pumpkin for Cal, and he was to find the perfect pumpkin for Emily.

Cal observed his daughter run her hands over the pumpkins as she walked by them, paying close attention to their bumps and bruises—she was crouched down staring at one intently and Cal simply couldn't resist.

"Oi, Emily!" he called out.

She looked up at him expectantly.

"Don't lick the pumpkins, yeah?"

She rolled her eyes, "Ha-ha Dad, very funny." She stood upright and moved down the row, pausing in front of a particularly big pumpkin. She regarded him with her hand on her hip, "Is that _ever _gonna get old?" she asked.

He laughed, and then acted as though he was thoroughly considering her question before he shook his head, "Don't think so, love. I really don't."

She smiled at him and kept walking.

Cal then turned his focus to the pumpkins—he searched up and down the rows and found himself mimicking his daughter's behavior. He crouched down in front of a particular pumpkin and took in all of its features.

"Em!" He summoned her over, "I think I've found one."

Emily excitedly ran over to where her father crouched, her brown hair flowing behind her. She crouched down next to him and observed the pumpkin.

Her hand reached out and felt it's lumpy surface which was cool to her touch, "Hmmm…" she considered, "well, it does have nice texture, and it is aesthetically pleasing,"

Cal almost laughed at the seriousness in her tone, but he felt a familiar excitement and hoped that he had found the pumpkin.

Emily lifted the pumpkin up off the ground so that she could observe it from all angles—she looked from Cal and back to the pumpkin.

Cal felt almost silly for holding his breath—but he did it, anyway, awaiting the verdict of his teenage daughter.

Finally, she pursed her lips and set the pumpkin down on the ground. Cal knew defeat. "Nope," she said, shaking her head. "Not ugly enough."

Cal laughed outright and Emily smiled at him. He reached out and tousled her hair. "Oh, not that again!" she just laughed and shrugged her shoulders, "I don't know, love," he said, "That's a pretty ugly pumpkin."

"I'll bet there's one that's uglier." She said as she rose from her crouching position, using the losing pumpkin as leverage.

"I'll bet there is," he said under his breath and continued down the row, his search renewed.

From the time she was little, Emily had always felt the need to adopt an "ugly" pumpkin from the pumpkin patch. Cal had asked her about it the first time she ever had the idea, and she mentioned that she didn't think it was fair that people just wanted the pretty pumpkins (or, actually, she'd said punkins as she was five at the time) and that the ugly pumpkins deserved love too.

Cal had marveled then at the beautiful soul that lay inside his daughter. She was wise beyond her years even back then. When she'd said that, he'd felt a swelling of pride and emotion for his daughter—so much so that tears almost sprung to his eyes. She didn't know what she had said—but she solidified herself as the one absolutely pure thing in his life. From that year on, Emily (and later he, when the new tradition was installed) had scoured the pumpkin patch for the ugliest pumpkin she could find. And damn if she didn't find it, too, every single year.

Zoe would pick out the prettiest pumpkin. The irony and implications of that, even back then, did not escape him.

Cal was so lost in thought that he didn't see the pumpkin straight in front of him—he stumbled over it and turned to curse at the offender. Staring back at him was a huge, misshapen _ugly_ pumpkin. A cheesy grin spread across his face—

"Oh, Em!" he yelled, and she crossed to him from the other side of the patch holding a pumpkin in her hands.

"I've found it—I've found the perfect pumpkin for you, love." He looked at his daughter proudly as she laughed and set the pumpkin she'd been carrying down on the ground. He watched her perform her ritual and then she grinned up at him—Cal stood there, hands shoved into both of his pockets reading hid daughter's face.

A genuine smile crossed her face and she laughed, "Yeah, I think this is the one, alright." She scrunched up her nose as she ran her hand over one of the particularly big bumps, "It's the ugliest pumpkin I've ever seen! Good job, dad!" she exclaimed.

"Thanks, love. Did you find me one, then?" He asked eyeing the pumpkin next to her.

She picked the pumpkin up and held it out to Cal for him to inspect, "Yep, I sure did!" He took the pumpkin from her hands, getting a genuine feel of the weight of it, and then he encircled it in his arms.

He mimicked her inspection of the pumpkin with a grin on his face and she rolled her eyes and then let out a laugh.

Finally he said "Yes, love, this is the one. It's perfectly round."

Emily liked ugly pumpkins, Zoe liked pretty pumpkins, and Cal liked a pumpkin that was perfectly round.

Cal turned to head toward the front of the patch, but Emily did not follow. Cal turned around and looked at her, "Well, love? You ready."

Emily bit her lip and cast her eyes downward.

"Uh-oh." Cal responded to her gesture, "What's that, then?"

She finally met his gaze. "We have to get another pumpkin, dad."

"Love, your mom's going to be out of town this year, remember?" He reminded her.

She smiled, "I know _that_, dad, I'm not that forgetful."

Cal's confusion was evident. He raised his eyebrows and gestured with both hands, including the one with the pumpkin, as if to say "Well…?"

"We still need a third pumpkin." Emily said, matter-of-factly.

"What am I not understanding, Em?" He asked, getting slightly frustrated with what was happening.

"Gillian's coming over," she said, trying to avoid Cal's gaze, "I invited her over."

Cal's eyebrows climbed to the top of his head, "You did _what_, love?" He didn't know why he felt a sense of awkwardness sweep over him at Emily's confession, but he did.

Emily sat down on a particularly large pumpkin and sighed, "Come on, Dad. She didn't have anything to do, she was just going to sit at home by herself! I _had_ to invite her!"

"Oh, you _had_ to invite her? Well, then…" Cal looked at his daughter suspiciously. He knew her well enough that there was more to this than she was telling him.

Emily looked at him, the picture of innocence—putting her best doe-eyed look on.

Cal pointed a finger at her, "Let me get this straight—you just took it upon yourself to invite Gillian over for Halloween?"

Emily nodded.

Cal sighed and ran his hand over his face. He wanted to spend as much time with Gillian as possible, he really did—but this could open up several cans of worms he wasn't quite sure he was ready to unleash just yet.

Emily let out a sound that let him know how exasperated she was, "What is the big deal, dad? I mean, hello! Gillian is your best friend—she's spent plenty of time with us throughout the years and we always have a good time when it's the three of us!" Emily crossed her arms over her chest, unhappy with her dad's behavior.

Cal crouched down and looked her in the eye. He considered her for a moment before he responded, "I know, love, that's true. But your mom wouldn't like that very much…"

Emily cut him off with the same sound of exasperation, "Dad! Mom's not even going to _be_ there so how is that even a problem?"

Cal considered this. Emily was, of course, right. Zoe was out of town for the holiday. And besides, Zoe and he were no longer married. She no longer reserved the right to put a moratorium on whom he could and could not invite to family get togethers. Gillian was his friend, and he _did_ want her there.

Emily misread Cal's silence and continued, "Geeze, Dad, she's your _friend_, your _best friend_, actually, and you act like you don't even _like_ her!"

Cal looked at Emily again. There was something about her gaze, something about the way she looked at him when she said _like_, something about her tone of voice. There seemed to be an extra twinkle that he'd seen a few times before. He thought she might be up to something and he considered pressing her for what, precisely, it was. But he looked again and the twinkle was gone. Perhaps he had just imagined it.

"You're right, love, as usual. Alright. Let's find a third pumpkin, then, yeah?"

Emily nodded enthusiastically.

Cal set his pumpkin on the ground next to Emily's and he grabbed his daughter by the hand as he pulled her up from the pumpkin.

He saw a look of worry cross her face as she glanced at her pumpkin.

Cal laughed, "Don't worry, love. No one's going to steal your pumpkin. Bloody ugly, that thing is." Emily laughed and pushed him.

"Now, then, what sort of pumpkin do you think Gillian would like?"

Emily thought about it for a moment before she responded, "A perfect one."

Cal smiled, "My thoughts exactly, love. My thoughts exactly."

Cal and Emily ended up finding what they thought the perfect pumpkin for Gillian would be—it was pretty, but not without its flaws—it was oblong shaped and, well, Emily said it best—

"I think that's the most elegant pumpkin I've ever seen!" Emily exclaimed.

At this, Cal looked at her as though she'd sprouted another head. His lovely daughter had just called a _pumpkin_ elegant. The look on his face, one of the strangest Emily had ever seen, made Emily burst out in a fit of laughter.

"You're strange, love, did anyone ever tell you that?" He said as he placed the pumpkins one by one on the counter to pay for them.

She shrugged, "Duh. I am _your _daughter, after all."

He looked at her for a moment and then put his arm around her shoulder, pulling him close to her. He placed a kiss on the side of her hair, "That you are."

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Coming up next: Cal and Gillian interact for the first time in this fic (oooh, aaahhh). Also, Gillian extracts a blind promise out of Cal.

click that button and _holla atcha girl_. or something. kthxbai.


	3. Please, Come

_A/N: Hello, dear readers! Firstly, I appreciate all of your wonderful reviews-they've been making me smile- so, here: a resounding THANK YOU from me to you! _

_So, have this: Chapter 3 of "It's the Great Pumpkin, Cal Lightman." As you know, I have been endeavoring to finish this fic before Halloween, and I'm doing my darndest. I am. There's so much I want for this story, so I'm gonna keep on trying. Also, I upped the rating slightly. *shrug*  
_

_Words of encouragement are always helpful! _

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Emily stood in the kitchen hovering over her bowl of cereal. She had just shoveled a rather large bite into her mouth when her father came into the kitchen,

"Morning, love." He greeted as he kissed her on the cheek and went about the business of making himself a pot of coffee.

"Morning, dad." she replied around her mouthful of cereal.

Cal looked at his daughter suspiciously, he should say something to her about talking with her mouth full, but he stopped himself. After all, Cal Lightman was many things, but a hypocrite he was most certainly _not_.

He pulled a mug down from the cabinet and Emily swallowed her cereal and looked at him seriously.

She waited until he felt her eyes on him and then he turned to look at him,

"Yes?" He asked.

"You're going to invite Gillian today, right?" She questioned, idly stirring her cereal.

Cal leaned back against the counter, "I thought you already did that, love."

Emily nodded, "I did." She hesitated slightly, causing Cal to turn his head to the right a bit, "But I just think that you should invite her, too, you know…so she knows she's _really_ welcome to come over." Emily finished and scooped up her cereal into her spoon.

"Did Gillian have qualms about coming over?" Cal guessed as he furrowed her brow.

Emily shrugged, "The same types of concerns you did." Emily said matter-of-factly. She fixed him with a knowing glance and what she didn't say hung in the air between them: _all of your concerns_.

"Hey," He pointed at her, "None of that, now."

Emily rolled her eyes and checked her watch. Gathering the cereal bowl she placed it in the sink, grabbed her jacket off the seatback, kissed her dad on the cheek, and headed for the door.

As she left, she tossed over her shoulder, "Whatever dad, just invite Gillian, okay?"

Cal stood in the kitchen for a brief moment after his daughter left. He briefly wondered how she got so smart—and so intuitive. He realized Emily no longer simply _thought_ she knew what sort of waters ran in his stream—she actually did know. She was one of only two people that had him actually figured out. Well, actually, she was the only one that had wholly his number. The other person had most of it, of course, but she didn't see _everything_. At least, she didn't see everything that his teenage daughter did.

Cal sighed and finished making the coffee. He would ask Gillian.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Gillian jumped slightly at the knock at her door. She had been so enraptured with her computer screen that the noise startled her completely. She looked up to see Cal standing before her, a rather sheepish grin on his face.

"Sorry, love. Didn't mean to scare you." He said as he let himself into her office.

She shook her head slightly, "It's fine," she gave him a small smile.

"What're you working on?" He asked, leaning over her desk as though he were trying to peek.

"I'll give you three guesses," Gillian said.

Cal laughed and fixed her with a gaze, "Loker said you like porn, I didn't know that I should believe him," He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively and she let out a gasp of air as a form of laughter.

"I wish," she replied, and then gave him a pointed look at the expression of shock that crossed his face, "but alas, it's the budget, of course." She clicked out of the document she was working on and sat back in her chair.

For his part, Cal was trying to wipe the smirk and surprise off his face. Gillian had just said that she _wished_ she'd been looking at porn. He knew she was making a joke, he knew she wasn't serious (except the expression she flashed told him that she probably actually did occasionally like to view porn), but he still felt a rush of excitement from her playful banter. He loved banter with Gillian. He particularly loved flirtatious banter with Gillian and Gillian making flippant comments about porn most certainly qualified as flirtatious banter. He swallowed hard and looked at Gillian's face finding an amused expression had taken residence.

She raised her eyebrows at him, "What's up?" she questioned.

"Oh, right," he said, shaking his head slightly as though his mind were an etch-a-sketch and shaking it could erase the mental images Gillian's flippant comment had allowed his mind to draw. "I heard you had a visit from one Emily Lightman the other day." He decided to get right to the point.

"Ah, yes, I did." Gillian responded as she idly played with a few papers that were lying on her desk.

"You coming over, then?"

Something about the way Cal said that made Gillian snap her gaze to his. She studied his face and his body language and she replayed the way he'd said what he just had over in her head again. Her eyes widened slightly and she finally spoke.

"You didn't know she'd invited me?" It wasn't really a question, it was more of a statement and her voice trailed off at the end.

Cal, deciding honesty was the best policy in this instance at least, shook his head. "Nope, hadn't a clue." He looked slightly embarrassed which would normally have struck Gillian as funny but at the moment she felt something gnawing deep down in her stomach, so Cal's sheepishness wasn't the wealth of amusement that it usually was.

"Oh," she busied herself with straightening the papers on her desk and chastised herself for feeling so sad. She had assumed that when Emily had asked her that Cal had been the one pushing for it—Gillian had thought that perhaps he was using Emily as a tool to get her to come to the celebration.

"She's sneaky, that one is. A little turncoat." Cal said, smiling, squinting his eyes slightly. He was taking in all of Gillian's expressions and he felt briefly overwhelmed by them. He often felt overwhelmed by Gillian—by all things to do with Gillian, really.

He recognized the hurt on her face and he couldn't quite figure out what had put it there. He wasn't, actually, interested in what put it there—all he could think about was alleviating it. Seeing Gillian hurt was one of his least favorite things.

"You're coming though, yeah?" He asked, letting a little bit of excitement slip into his voice.

She smiled at him but it wasn't genuine—it was more of a wry smile, instead. "Cal," she began, still fussing with the papers on her desk, "you don't have to do this—you don't have to invite me over, I'm perfectly capable of spending a holiday by myself." She finished with a shrug.

"No one said you weren't, love." He said, shoving his hands in his pockets and shrugging back at her.

She let out a slight sigh, "Look, Cal, I appreciate what Emily was trying to do but…"

She was stopped midsentence by his hand on hers. He reached across the desk and covered both of her hands with his, stilling her fidgety movements.

Gillian's gaze was fixed on their hands sitting atop the desk. She felt a slight jump in her stomach—a little flip-flop of sorts—and her lips parted and she gasped slightly at the contact. Her gaze remained on their hands when she began again, "I don't think,"

She was stopped again when Cal took his left hand and placed it under her chin. He moved her face up so that her eyes were on his face, "Hey," he said, and Gillian's eyes darted to his and then away again, "Hey," he repeated, "Look at me." She obliged. "Come." He said, the beginnings of a grin made his mouth twitch slightly because he knew the double entendre would not be missed. Gillian shifted her eyes downward and Cal tightened his grip on her chin signaling her to look him in the eye again, "I want you there." He nodded almost imperceptibly.

They stayed like that for a moment—his hand on both of hers and him holding her chin in his hand between his index finger and thumb, the air between them charged as it usually was. Finally, Cal spoke again, "Okay?"

Gillian nodded and tried to speak, "Okay." She said, but her voice came out hoarse—barely a raspy whisper. She cleared her throat and tried again, "Okay."

Cal smiled and released her chin and hands and stepped back, a celebratory something or other in his posture.

"Good." He smiled, then noticed her worried expression. "What now, love?"

Gillian inhaled deeply. She tried to make her heart beat normally—the rush of adrenaline she had felt at Cal's touch and the familiar stirrings she felt at their eye contact had both refused to cease and they were making her feel on edge. She took great care to steady her voice before she spoke,

"What about…" she hesitated, "Zoe?" She finished, somewhat lamely.

Cal looked at Gillian hard. "To hell with Zoe."

Gillian's eyes widened and her mouth opened slightly with surprise at Cal's choice of words—seeing her expression Cal couldn't help but marvel at how adorable she was. Cal also couldn't help laughing. It started small, the laugh, but it quickly grew until his body shook with it.

Soon enough, Gillian joined in and Cal thought briefly what a pleasant sound it was to hear. They finished laughing and shared a warm look before Cal spoke again,

"Well, okay, not really. But, she'll be out of town, darling." He gestured with his hand, "So please, come. We want you there." He made sure the sincerity he felt made it into his voice.

Gillian smiled, finally assured, and nodded, "Alright."

"Good!" He said, and Gillian watched as a look of genuine happiness spread over his face. She returned the favor.

Then she turned her head slightly to the side, "On one condition…" she offered.

Cal froze and glanced at her—"Well, let's hear it, then." He said as he leaned back on one of her chairs.

"I bring a movie—" she pointed at him and fixed him with an accusatory glance, "and _you_ watch it with me."

"What about Emily?" He asked.

"Well of course Emily will watch it with me. But you, you'll try to do something to get out of it—like feign sleep or food poisoning or something."

Cal put on an innocent looked and looked at her, "I wouldn't!"

"You have!" Gillian countered.

Cal chuckled, "What's the movie?"

"Oh, no, I'm not going to tell you what it is."

"So, let me get this straight," he wagged a finger at her, "you expect me to promise to watch a movie with you without even knowing what it is?" he affected an incredulous tone.

She smiled at him conspiratorially, "Yep." she replied and pursed her lips.

"And if I refuse?"

"I won't come." She stated matter-of-factly.

He let out a dramatic sigh. "Fine." He finally acquiesced, "I promise I'll watch it with you."

Gillian shot Cal a smug smile, "Good." She rose up and walked out of her office.

As she passed, Cal took it upon himself to admire her frame. He always took it upon himself to admire her frame—seemed like such a waste _not _to. His gaze traveled up and down the length of her body and he paid particular attention to the toned nature of her calves. Each day he liked to pick a particular one of her lovely attributes to focus on, it happened to be calves today.

He watched her retreat from her office and quickly followed after her, "Hey, aren't you going to tell me what movie it is now that I've promised to watch it?"

Without stopping, Gillian looked at him out of the corner of her eye, "Nope. You'll find out Halloween night, Dr. Lightman." She then flashed him what could only be characterized as a very _sexy _look before she went into the women's restroom.

Cal stared at the door as it closed behind her for a moment before he smirked and headed back to his office.

Gillian Foster never failed to surprise him.

* * *

_To Be Continued! Alas, I know not precisely what happens in the next chapter- it may be a rather short one if I decide to add an element to the story I had not been previously planning. But, fret not, there will be a successive chapter._

_Click that button if you're bored! :)_


	4. Qqquestion

_A/N: Hello! I am including this brief interlude because I decided to add another element to the story, after all. So, this one is rather short. But, not to worry, there's more to come._

_Thanks be to everyone who reviewed, etc. I check my e-mail like a mad-woman on days i post new chapters.  
_

_Hope everyone's enjoying. Particularly because I'm realizing how much work this is! :)  
_

* * *

Gillian walked into Cal's office the day before Halloween. He was sitting at his desk staring at nothing. Gillian paused to take in the sight of him. He was clad in jeans and a black button up shirt and he was reclining in his chair with his legs stretched out before him crossed at the ankles. His hands, for their part, were clasped behind his head, acting as a pillow of sorts against the chair.

She was surprised that her presence had not yet broken his concentration and she let out a little laugh before she observed, "Busy, I see."

Cal startled slightly at her words before he turned to face her with a full grin, swiveling the chair slightly so he was facing her. He brought his legs up as he turned, but left his hands where they were. "Yes, of course," he said, a grin still on his face, "I usually am."

"True," she said as she stepped further into his office.

Gillian shook her head slightly, were it not for the faintest furrow of his brow while he was reclining before she disturbed him, Cal would have looked like the picture of relaxation. To any normal observer, he would have been.

But the truth of the matter was that Cal had actually been deep in thought—he was thinking about the upcoming weekend and about the upcoming holiday and he was thinking in no uncertain terms about his business partner.

It had been years since he had been so excited for Halloween. He hadn't anticipated the holiday so much since Emily was a small child. Back then, he had loved taking her trick-or-treating and he loved to watch her eyes light up when someone would throw an extra piece of candy in her bag because of how adorable she was. Cal still enjoyed the holiday because he spent it with his daughter, but it had been years since he actually relished its arrival the way he did now.

Oftentimes he felt in denial about a multitude of things—the array and depth of feelings Gillian Foster stirred within him not being last on the list. However, Cal was not so delusional that he could fool himself into overlooking or mistaking the reason his reaction to Halloween _this_ year was different. For one, he wouldn't be spending the holiday with Emily and his ex-wife. He wouldn't be spending the holiday with Zoe trying not to fight with her or sleep with her. He'd be spending it with _Gillian_. And therein lay the difference.

And there was one of the particularly big and gruesome can of worms he had not been so keen on opening.

"Always working, I am," He said, regarding her with a particular twinkle in his eye.

She laughed and Cal turned his head slightly as he admired her beauty.

"Such a tragic life." She said as she sat down in front of him.

Finally, he dropped his hands from behind his head, "Indeed." He studied her face momentarily, "So, what's up?" he asked, knowing that she hadn't come to his office simply for idle chatter. Not that she didn't do that, sometimes, but he'd known her too long and too well by now, so he knew that there was a purpose to this particular visit.

Gillian gave a small smile—one that seemed, to Cal anyway, rooted in discomfort. He was not entirely inaccurate, though the stem of it did elude him: "You're not canceling are you?" He asked, worry etched on his face. He didn't even try to hide the disappointment he felt at the thought.

She was quick to reassure him, "No, no, I'll be there…" she said, her voice trailing off slightly. To Cal, this was an indication that there was something more she wished to say—

He regarded her and raised one eyebrow slightly in question. The look of embarrassment she shot him struck him as funny and he let out a little laugh as he watched her struggle internally to find the words,

"Well, out with it then, Foster." Cal commanded in a friendly tone, enjoying the way she fixed her gaze in her lap at her hands wrung together instead of on him.

She reached up to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear, "Well… this might be a weird question, but, I don't know…"

His interest piqued as he watched her begin to fidget even more,

"Yes?" He prompted finding it comical that she was having such difficulty. He could tell by her demeanor that it was nothing earth-shattering or deep, but her struggle was real.

She smiled and then Cal watched as resolve came over her face, "For Halloween—" She paused, "When I come over—is there supposed to be—are we supposed to—Do you and Emily—" she kept trying and failing to ask the simple question. Gillian became slightly frustrated with herself and she tried again, "Costumes." She said simply, her hands moving to the side of her body.

"Costumes?" Cal asked, amusement evident in his voice.

Gillian nodded curtly, "Yes. Costumes. Do you and Emily wear them?"

Cal wasn't quite sure where she was going with this although he firmly believed that he should be well aware. He blamed it on Gillian's mere presence, which had often been a source of befuddlement for years. She was dressed in jeans today with a deep blue top. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail with a few strands falling around her face. Her jewelry was simple and she took Cal's breath away. So, he was unable to understand and follow her current train of thought.

He considered the question—did he and Emily wear costumes? Well, Emily certainly did. She always had. She loved the holiday and that love never waned with age for his daughter. He, however, hadn't dressed up since Emily was eleven—since she stopped needing him as that particular sort of partner in crime.

At his silence, Gillian frowned. She was slightly frustrated at the fact that Cal wasn't helping her out at all, though she would not have been upset had she known the reason for it.

She sighed, "Do I need to wear a costume, Cal?" Her gaze met his eyes but then quickly shifted away, evidence of her embarrassment.

Realization swept over Cal and Gillian watch as it made its way to his face. She nearly laughed at the way his eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up.

"Ah, I see…" Cal replied.

He considered her question momentarily—weighing the pros and cons of the situation. Emily always dressed up; Cal never did. Therefore, he had two choices—he could tell Gillian that no, she didn't need a costume, that Emily was the only one who dressed up. Or, he could tell her that yes, it was a family tradition that they always dressed up for Halloween and that Gillian most definitely should too.

Cal didn't really _want_ to dress up and his hesitation left him at a crossroads. The thought of seeing the lovely Gillian Foster dressed up in costume—any costume, really—appealed to him on so many levels that it felt a little bit ridiculous. Seeing Gillian in a costume would come at a great self-sacrifice. Smiling as his mind turned over the possibilities (what, after all, would she dress as?), he made a quick decision.

"Yes." He said finally, nodding affirmation. "Yes, you need a costume," Something flickered in his gaze and Gillian caught it.

She sent him a questioning glance, but Cal gave nothing else away.

"Okay," she said cautiously, and watched as mischief made its way onto Cal's face. Something in his expression caused within her a bout of exhilaration. Her breath quickened and it did not seem to go unnoticed by Cal. His reaction to her response caused her to tilt her head slightly and ask, "You're sure?"

Cal's eyes sparkled—"Oh yes," he said emphatically, "I'm sure. We always dress up, Em and I," He lied. He cleared his throat, "Tradition, of course. You understand."

A small smile played on Gillian's lips as her gaze flicked from Cal's eyes to his lips and back to his eyes, taking in all of the microexpressions he was flashing before she finally responded,

"Oh, yes," she replied as she slipped something sultry into her voice and turned on her heel to leave, "I understand."

She left Cal's office as fast as she'd come in leaving Cal to his own thoughts which took a decidedly different turn after her departure.

After all, he was going to get to see Gillian Foster in costume.

* * *

_To be fluffily continued._

Best,

Calculated Artificiality / CuteLittleTRex / Natalie / Cheez-It Queen


	5. Is that a COSTUME I see?

_A/N: Hello! Welcome to chapter 5 of this fic. in which we see Cal and Gillian (and Emily) in costume!_

_Trying SO hard not to run out of steam on this! It's proving difficult- but, here we go again!_

* * *

It's the Great Pumpkin, Cal Lightman—Chapter 5

Gillian stood on the porch of the Lightman residence holding a DVD and a plate of cookies. The air outside was crisp and she inhaled deeply, feeling the cool air inflate her lungs as she tried to calm the queasy feeling in her stomach.

It was not quite evening yet, and for their part the children that would be roaming the streets ravenous for candy in a couple of hours were more than likely at home putting their costumes on as their mothers fretted over whether or not the flimsy fabric would keep their children warm.

Gillian sighed and pushed the thought out of her head—she pushed the doorbell, too.

Emily Lightman greeted Gillian with a huge smile—the teenager was dressed as a witch, which Gillian found rather funny given the fact that it was the complete antithesis to Emily's personality. Emily Lightman was the sweetest girl in the world. Gillian looked at the girl who wore a store bought costume that was rather cute and a pointy black hat.

"Hi, Gillian!" Emily exclaimed as she threw her arms around Gillian's neck, "Happy Halloween!"

"Emily! Happy Halloween!" Gillian returned with a smile as she did her best to return the hug despite the fact that she was carrying sustenance and entertainment. With the hug, Gillian felt the lull of sadness that had overtaken her moments ago dissipate completely. It was replaced with steady warmth as she considered her love for this child.

Though not her own, Gillian loved Emily as though she were so—which was only one of the many reasons the girl's mother couldn't particularly stand Gillian. Gillian had been in Emily's life for many years now and she had a significantly less adversarial relationship with her than Zoe did.

Gillian was broken from her thoughts by Emily's voice, "Here, let me take those for you!" she said as she reached out and took the plate of cookies from Gillian's hand.

"Mmm, peanut butter," Emily said as she led Gillian into the house, "My favorite!"

"Of course, that's why I baked them." Gillian replied warmly as she followed Emily into the kitchen and watched as the girl set them on the table.

"Did I mention how glad I am that you came?" Emily said in response to Gillian's statement, and Gillian couldn't help but laugh at the girl's small joke. Finally, Emily took a look at Gillian, a sudden smile creeping onto the girl's face.

"Ohmygod." Emily said excitedly, "That is the _best_ costume ever!" Emily nearly squealed as she took in Gillian's outfit, "and," she said dramatically, "you look _amazing_!"

Gillian had felt somewhat self-conscious in picking out a costume. It had been a long time—longer than she'd care to admit—since she dressed up for Halloween. Years later, she was unsure how the rules of Halloween costuming had actually changed. She'd heard tell, of course, and seen evidence on the eleven o'clock news, so she was certainly apprehensive about dressing up. She had even taken to the internet to scour the web for costume ideas. Finding nothing relevant to her (she, after all, was not a girl in her mid-twenties looking for an excuse to dress provocatively), she eventually decided on a costume and hoped that she wouldn't feel too stupid.

Emily's adorable reaction put her at ease, "Thanks, Em." She said, giving the girl a genuine smile, "You look great, too!" Gillian offered, and the girl beamed.

Emily did a little twirl as she plucked a piece of popcorn out of a bowl on the kitchen counter, "Thanks!" She said, popping it into her mouth.

The radio was on and provided a slight hum in the background—Gillian glanced around the kitchen and saw various snacks put out. Emily read Gillian's question and responded to it,

"Dad and I gorge out." She said, smiling. "It's pretty much the one time of year he doesn't flip out about it."

"I see," Gillian said, Emily's happiness seemed contagious. "I can get behind that." Emily laughed as Gillian took a piece of popcorn and ate it, "Speak of the devil, where _is _your dad?"

Emily opened the fridge and brought out a can of coke, "See?" she said as she cracked it open, "He really does let me go all out. And he's at the store," she finished as she took a sip. "Do you want anything to drink?" Emily asked, as though she had forgotten her manners.

"No, I'm fine for now." She said, and then she steered the conversation back to Cal, "He's at the store?"

"Oh, yeah. He had to go get all the ingredients for dinner—he's cooking." Emily answered.

"He is?" Gillian wasn't surprised, but she was indeed curious, "What's he cooking?"

"Chili." At Gillian's surprised expression, Emily spoke, "It's tradition."

"Ah, yes." Gillian nodded, "Tradition."

As Gillian and Emily waited for Cal to come home from the store, they made their way into the living room and sat on the couch. They engaged in comfortable small talk as Emily began to chat to Gillian about the new boy she was seeing. Gillian smiled as she listened and she took a moment to allow herself to feel gratitude.

She had been through so much the past few years that she scarcely allowed room for gratitude—but as she listened to Emily's sweet voice confiding in Gillian in the way Emily did with few others in life, she let gratitude wash over her. It comforted in a specific type of way and she took a moment to reflect upon it.

So deep in her thoughts was she, and in Emily's story—for she was a great multi-tasker—that she didn't hear the click of the lock as Cal came in.

"Oi," he said over a bagful of groceries, "Is she going on about that _Chad_ again?" Cal said, making sure the exaggerated disgust in his voice shone through.

Emily fixed him with a stern gaze and Gillian laughed at their exchange.

"Can I get a little help here?" Cal asked in mock exasperation and it was then that Gillian noticed his predicament—he had two grocery bags filled to the brim somehow precariously balanced on one arm and a giant pumpkin in the other.

Emily and Gillian both laughed and went to take the bags from him. Gillian took one and Emily took one leaving Cal with the pumpkin.

"Are you really that averse to making two trips, Cal?" Gillian asked playfully as the three of them made their way into the kitchen.

"Yes, love, I absolutely am," Cal replied.

Emily and Gillian set their bags down on the couch and both turned around to look at Cal who stood holding the pumpkin.

Confusion reigned supreme on Emily's face, "Dad, we already have all the pumpkins," She said.

Cal looked down at the pumpkin rather sheepishly and Gillian couldn't help but notice how adorable he looked, "I know," he said, shrugging his shoulders, "but I saw this one and I just liked it, so I bought it, figured we could carve another one or something" he laughed a little bit at this, "_bloody_ expensive it was, though—seventy-three cents a pound!" He exclaimed, pulling another exaggerated face.

Gillian and Emily exchanged glances and then as if on cue, they burst out laughing. Cal set the pumpkin down on the counter and looked between the two women standing before him—"What?" he said, in genuine confusion.

The situation struck Gillian as particularly funny and she had a hard time controlling her laughter—she said, through bouts of chuckling, "Cal, that's a _baking_ pumpkin!"

At his look of bewilderment, Emily responded, "It's used to bake stuff, dad. Like pies."

"There's a difference?"

Gillian finally had her laughter under control when she responded, "Yes, there is."

"Hm." Was Cal's only reply.

Gillian looked at him—he seemed somewhat defeated. The idea was silly to her, that Cal Lightman should be sad over a pumpkin, but she wanted to alleviate his discomfort.

"So, we'll bake with it!" She offered up, and Emily's eyes lit up.

"Seriously?" Emily questioned.

Gillian nodded. "Seriously." Gillian confirmed.

"Cool!" Emily exclaimed and Cal and Gillian watched as a strange look passed across the girl's face, "Well," she said, looking between her father and Gillian, "I'll go get stuff set up for carving!"

Cal regarded her suspiciously, certain he saw something of what he had seen a few days prior in her eyes. He let it go, but he couldn't quell the feeling that the daughter he loved so dearly was up to something.

Emily's departure left Cal and Gillian in the kitchen alone, and they regarded each other for the first time that Halloween.

Gillian looked at Cal—she took in his attire. He was wearing dress pants that were black but that had a little stripe that was a little bit lighter going up the sides of his pants. His shirt was black as well, buttoned all the way up. Over the shirt was a rather strange looking sports jacket—it, too, had black elements in it. But it also looked as though it had static, like from a tv, going through it. Gillian looked at his hair, the way it was done in lengthy somewhat uncouth spikes and all of a sudden realization swept over her—

"Oh my gosh, you _did not_!" she said, laughing.

Cal simply grinned at her, showing all of his teeth in a genuine smile. He loved seeing Foster laugh, "I did." He affirmed.

"You did _not!" _She said again, the fit of laughter coming harder—so hard, in fact, she was almost in tears. She took a few calming breaths, trying to stop the laughter, she was scarcely successful as she said "You did _not_ dress as Barry Manilow!"

Cal shot her a grin—"I did!"

Gillian dissolved into laughter again, and leaned back against the counter, bracing herself against it with her hands. "You have got to be kidding me," she said, "That is hilarious."

"Glad I could amuse you, Foster," Cal laughed with her, then. He hadn't had the foggiest idea what he should dress up as. He didn't want to go too over the top, and he knew he didn't want to be anything scary or frightening. He'd considered simply _not_ dressing up. He'd very seriously considered it, actually, until he remembered Foster's discomfort at merely inquiring about a costume. Emily hadn't asked too many questions when he'd consulted her for costume ideas—the girl was young and naïve enough, but she wasn't stupid. Emily knew exactly why Cal had decided they'd all dress up this year—and Emily wasted no time in teasing him about it. But still, the mechanics of _what _to dress up as eluded him. However, one night while he tried to fall asleep, he'd had a flash of brilliance—he'd decided to dress up as Barry Manilow in the hopes that such a costume would tickle Gillian Foster.

As he stood in his kitchen watching his delightful business partner's delightful body shake with laughter, he felt a sense of satisfaction as he realized his gamble had paid off.

"What made you pick _that_?" she said, finally able to fully control her laughter.

Cal shrugged, "You know how much I love Barry Manilow," he said, holding his palms out. "Musical genius, he is. Copacabana—that's good stuff!" Cal explained, swiveling his hips slightly.

An absurd look crossed Gillian's face as she wrinkled her nose, "Please do not sing, Cal!" Gillian said, looking at him while trying to keep the movements his hips were making out of her mind—she had controlled her laughter but she was unable to keep the smile off her face.

Cal had been so busy being enraptured with the sight and sound of Gillian's laughter that he had failed to take account of what she was wearing.

Lazily, he swept his gaze over her body. Gillian never failed to impress him. She was wearing a pair of dark black skinny jeans that hugged her body in all the right places. Staring at the shape of her hips, Cal felt a familiar stirring in his groin. Arousal in the presence of Gillian Foster was something he had become accustomed to throughout the years—but he had never seen Gillian Foster like this, so he had to take a stab at controlling it in a new way.

His gaze traveled down her body where he found black leather knee high boots with a very small heel. Cal felt his arousal intensify and he nearly had to stifle a groan. He couldn't believe his luck and he made a mental note to thank Emily later for the fact that Gillian Foster was standing in his kitchen wearing the sexiest knee-high boots he'd ever seen. They were subtle. And on Gillian Foster, subtle was sexy.

He let his gaze drift up her body and found that she was wearing a form fitting turtleneck. He wasn't sure precisely what it was made of, but it was rather shiny and damn near skin-tight. Initially, when he'd imagined costume-clad Foster before him, he was rather hoping to be able to see some Foster skin, but he found that the way the turtleneck cradled her body excited him in an entirely new and enticing way. It left so much to the imagination—but it allowed the imagination to be steered in the all too familiar direction.

Next, Cal returned his gaze to her face, pausing long enough to note the flicker of arousal in her eyes. Gillian was thoroughly enjoying the way Cal was drinking her in. Cal, of course, continued his observation. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she was wearing a black headband—her ears were devoid of jewelry as were her hands.

It was then that Cal noticed something slung across her body—he saw the edge of a sword peeking out from behind her back—

Cal's tongue darted out and moistened his lips—Foster was standing before him in his kitchen in full costume and he immediately knew it was full well worth the self-sacrifice he'd made. Emily was going to tease him for years to come. This moment, however, was entirely worth it.

A slow smile spread over his face as he realized precisely what Gillian Foster had dressed as this Halloween.

"You look bloody _amazing_," Cal said, wanting to pay her an absolutely true compliment. Though he recognized that the adjective didn't do her nearly enough justice.

"Thanks," She said and smiled at him.

It was Cal's turn to laugh. A full, deep laugh shook the kitchen and Gillian couldn't help but chuckle with him,

"_You _didn't," Cal said through his laughter, echoing her earlier words, but placing the emphasis on a different word—"You didn't."

She laughed and her eyes sparkled, "I did."

"You did not come to my house dressed as…" He paused, the originality of it all taking him over momentarily, "A ninja!"

She chuckled, pleased that he got what she was supposed to be and pleased that he found it funny—but she was also secretly pleased that he found her outfit sexy. "I did." She nodded, and Cal made his appreciation evident in the look he shot her. Gillian had wanted to be sexy but also not inappropriate as they'd be spending the evening with Cal's teenage daughter.

As if summoned by the thought, Emily came into the kitchen, "Geeze," she said, smiling at both of them, "You guys are having way too much fun in here!"

Cal laughed and reached out to poke Emily's hat, "Did you see Foster's costume?" Cal asked, then added, "She's dressed as a ninja!"

Emily rolled her eyes, "I know, dad! It's an awesome costume!"

Cal met Gillian's gaze, "It _really_ is." He said, but he made it clear that he meant more than that.

Gillian felt the butterflies return to her stomach and she laughed nervously hoping that Cal wouldn't catch the severity of her reaction to his tone and gaze.

Cal, of course, did and the thought fueled his arousal. The tension was palpable between them and Emily cleared her throat.

"Don't mind me, guys!" She said pretending to be frustrated. Yet, when Gillian and Cal looked at Emily's face, she was wearing a smile, clearly enjoying the interaction.

Cal smiled at his daughter and she chuckled a little bit at the look he gave her before she said, "I've set up the pumpkin carving station!"

"Excellent—why don't you two head in there and chart out some tentative designs while I get dinner started,"

Emily and Gillian both smiled and nodded as they walked out of the kitchen, Emily first.

As Gillian passed Cal she held his gaze and he let her see the happiness he felt in that particular moment.

As Gillian walked out the door of the kitchen and into the living room, Cal allowed himself to stare at her as she was leaving—his eyes traced a path up and down her body, and the fake sword she carried rested just above her hips, though it was spread across her back diagonally—he took the opportunity to stare at her hips and imagined for a moment what they could do.

Cal shook his head slightly and busied himself with preparing the chili—try as he might he simply couldn't keep his mind off Gillian Foster—that had long been the case, actually.

As he prepared the cornbread for baking, he mused that Gillian Foster was absolutely the sexiest ninja he'd ever seen.

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_Chapter 6 will bring Pumpkin Carving Galore! _

_Hope this chapter was up to par! Thanks for the reviews guys, they mean a LOT- because this is by no means easy work!_

_For the record, I ~do~ allow anonymous reviews! :) :) :)_

_Thanks for showing me the love._

_xoxo,_

_Cheez-It Queen.  
_


	6. Carvealicious

_A/N: Is it just me, or do these chapters keep getting longer and longer and longer? Hm. Well, I now present chapter 6 of It's the Great Pumpkin, Cal Lightman!_

_I'll still try to finish this story by Halloween-but that doesn't leave me much time and I'm afraid a cold has overtaken me at the moment. Also, this is the first time since the inception of this story that I'm posting a chapter without already having the successive chapter at least started._

_My confidence in this chapter is lacking- but, I'm putting it up anyway! Thank you all for your lovely reviews. I enjoy every single one of them!_

_

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Emily led Gillian into the living room and stood excitedly by the table that she had carefully draped with newspaper.

Gillian took in the three pumpkins lined up on the table and couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. It was quite a sight—three very different pumpkins sitting next to one another as Emily Lightman excitedly peered out from behind them.

"This one's yours!" Emily said pointing to the oblong pumpkin.

"Oh, I love it!" Gillian said truthfully, "Let me guess which one is yours!" Her eyes fell to the horribly misshapen pumpkin.

Emily just beamed at Gillian, "Yep!"

"Good choice, Em." For what felt like the hundredth time that evening, Gillian struggled to quell the wave of emotion that rushed over her. She felt the sting of tears behind her eyes and willed herself to keep them at bay. Gillian was overcome by the gravity of the situation—by Emily Lightman looking at her with a look that could only properly be categorized as one of love.

Emily must have noticed the change in Gillian's expression because she came around the table and hugged Gillian before she suggested they begin to take a sharpie to blank white pieces of paper to practice their templates.

Emily and Gillian busied themselves trying to create the perfect face as their idle chatter filled the living room.

Cal came through the kitchen door into the living room with words on his tongue, but the sight that greeted him stopped him dead in his tracks, and the words were lost. His daughter and his business partner were laughing and were lightly engrossed in discussing the proper face to place on a pumpkin for carving and he felt a weird feeling in his heart. He considered the feeling for a moment before deciding that it felt as though something were tugging on it—it felt heavy, his heart, but not in a bad way—in a wonderful way that he hadn't associated with anyone except Gillian in years.

Feeling Cal's eyes on her, Gillian glanced up from her drawing and smiled at Cal—his heart fell deeper into his stomach at the sight of her looking up at him through her lids and smiling at him.

Cal cleared his throat, "You girls ready to carve?"

"I think so!" Emily said, tilting her head slightly to look at her drawing.

"Do you need to draw your face out, Cal?"

He laughed and walked toward the table, "Nope." He said, picking up a carving tool.

"Dad free-hands it," Emily explained, "But he does the same _type _of face every year." She said.

Gillian smiled at the conspiratorial tone Emily took on, "I see. And what sort of face would that be?"

"Scary." Emily said, picking up her carving knife.

"I'm shocked," Gillian said in a tone that made it quite evident that she was, in fact, not shocked at all.

Cal grinned at her, "Bet I can guess what type of face you're going to put on that elegant pumpkin of yours!"

Gillian raised her eyebrow in question. Cal considered saying 'A sexy one,' and leering at her, but he ultimately decided against it because his teenage daughter happened to be standing in between them.

"A happy one." Cal finally said as he watched Gillian's face for her reaction.

Her face flushed and he saw her focus her eyes on a point on the table—immediately he felt bad, she thought he was making fun of her.

Cal waited until she glanced back up at him and when she did, he gave her a look that let her knew he found that aspect of her personality ridiculously appealing. That second look made her blush anew and find the same spot on the table. Cal felt his heart tugged in the all too familiar direction and smiled.

"Let's get going, shall we, ladies?" He said, poising the carving knife atop the pumpkin.

Gillian watched as Cal jammed the knife into the top of the pumpkin and began sawing at an angle and she just couldn't help herself.

"You didn't tell me you were going to kill it!" She said, barely able to contain her laughter.

Emily looked at Gillian understanding her reference immediately and started laughing. Cal stopped sawing and looked at the two people next to him with a look of complete bewilderment, "What?"

Emily laughed harder at the expression on her dad's face—"It's from the movie 'It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown.'" Emily told him.

"The what?" He said, pulling the carving knife out of the pumpkin and waving it around a little. As Cal moved his hands with his trademarked physicality, little orange flecks of pumpkin flew off the tool and landed spread out on the newspaper.

Emily and Gillian exchanged glances, "It's a classic, Dad!" When Cal still showed confusion, Emily sighed, "You know, Charlie Brown…" She said the words emphatically, using her hands demonstratively.

Cal furrowed his brow, "Oh! From those Cashew characters?"

Emily rolled her eyes and Gillian tried to hide her smile, "Yeah, close enough." Gillian said, humor evident in her voice.

Cal looked at Emily, "It's the Peanuts, Dad." she told him.

"Right, right, the Peanuts."

Gillian bit her lip, "You'll understand soon enough."

Cal looked at her out of the corner of her eye, he took a breath to start to ask Gillian what, precisely, she meant by that, but she picked up her carving tool and began to slice the pumpkin. Emily did the same and they all finished cutting the top off of the pumpkin at the same time.

"Now, for the messy part," Cal said as he took his jacket off and rolled up his sleeves.

Gillian cringed and hoped that Cal didn't see. But, of course, he did. There was scarcely a moment when they were together that Cal wasn't transfixed by Gillian. His gaze was on her and he watched as disgust settled momentarily on her face and then was replaced by what Cal read as fear. He was confused by that register so he looked harder—and there it was—slight, not overwhelming, but there was fear on Foster's face.

"You alright there, Foster?" He asked, as he looked into his pumpkin and then looked back at her. It did not escape him that she had yet to roll her sleeves up as both he and Emily had done already.

Emily moved her pumpkin to the side of table farthest from Gillian and began digging in removing the innards of the pumpkin excitedly. It also did not escape Cal that Gillian was looking anywhere else except at Emily.

She nodded her head, "I'm fine." Her eyes darted to the side and she shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

"Clearly," he said, amusement finding its way into his voice.

She met his gaze and tried to smile, but failed—she felt utterly stupid at the moment.

"Something you'd like to share, Foster?" he asked as he positioned his hands at the entrance of the pumpkin.

"No," she said, and she stood up from her chair and began tentatively rolling her sleeves up. Cal watched as she swallowed hard.

He sunk his hands into the pumpkin, "Anything at all?"

"No," she said again and jutted her chin out.

Cal made a show of removing the insides of the pumpkin and he sloppily threw them down next to Gillian, his eyes never leaving her's.

A smirk spread across his face at the same moment realization came to him and he couldn't help but chuckle, "Really?" he said, and then reached in for another handful. Detaching it from the wall of the pumpkin—a sound that could be heard throughout the living room—he clutched it in his fist and moved closer to Foster.

"Cal…" she said, her tone full of warning.

"What?" He questioned, feigning innocence.

Then, without warning, Cal thrust the orange goop at Gillian—she shrieked lightly and stumbled backwards. The commotion caused Emily to finally glance up from her task and Gillian's reaction caused Cal to bellow with laughter.

He stepped toward Gillian with it again and she backed away—

"Cal!" She exclaimed, "Don't."

Gillian saw the gleam in his eye and she took off running seconds before he did—he chased her twice around the couch and then stopped—they were having a stand off around the sofa—he'd fake one way, then go the other and they reversed positions.

"Cal," she said, laughing, "stop it!"

He ignored her and chased her—finally catching her as she changed directions to head back toward the table. He snaked one arm out and caught her around her waist, drawing her to him. Cal held the offending pumpkin matter inches from her face, smiling as she squirmed against him.

Idly, he thought that given a choice, he could live in that moment forever—a laughing, writhing Gillian Foster pressed up against him.

"Don't, Cal!" She pleaded, "Please." She had a smile on her face, but she was serious. They were both breathing hard and he exhaled sharply as he threw the pumpkin particles back onto the table. Cal brought his hand back to her face and turned it over so that the backside of his hand—the clean side—could caress her face.

Gillian immediately stilled against him and her breathing became shallow as she watched Cal look at her with an expression that could only be classified as tenderness.

Emily finally distracted them when she let out a little noise of happiness. Simultaneously, Cal and Gillian turned to look at Emily. Emily had pure joy plastered over her face; her expressive eyes filled with happiness as she clasped her hands and fixed them with a very specific look. Cal and Gillian glanced back at each other before they both dipped their heads and let out nervous laughter. Cal released Gillian from his grip and wiped his hand on a towel Emily had laid on the table.

Gillian walked over to the chair and sat down, trying to catch her breath and her wits. At first, she had felt out of sorts about the pumpkin—but that changed the moment Cal had actually touched her. She leaned back in the chair as a dizzying sensation came over her—she felt flushed and lightheaded as she recalled his arm around her waist, his hand upon her cheek and his eyes filled with tenderness.

Shaking her head slightly, she tried to rid herself of the sensation—she turned her attention to the mess on the table, instead, and she felt herself give a little shudder involuntarily.

Cal ran the towel between his fingers, "Seriously?" He said, looking at her.

She chuckled, "Seriously." She nodded.

Emily laughed—and Gillian glanced at her.

"You're afraid of pumpkins!" Emily exclaimed, "That is so _cute_!" She finished.

Gillian laughed, "I'm not afraid of pumpkins!" Cal and Emily both shot her a look, "I'm afraid of what's inside of pumpkins! It's…gross! I mean, look at it!" She pointed to the table in only partially mock horror.

Cal and Emily looked at the table that was covered with orange and seeds.

"It is kinda gross." Emily said, wrinkling up her nose.

"But you're scared of it?" Cal said, reaching into his pumpkin again and scooping some out. This time, he put it on the side farthest from Gillian.

Gillian rolled her eyes, "I know it's silly. And strangely enough, I can get over it when I'm baking—but," she shuddered and Cal marveled at how adorable she was, "I just can't handle it like this." She waved her hand around at the table.

"The promise of sweets really does do wonders for you, doesn't it, love?" Cal chuckled at Gillian's expression—"Gillian Foster, scared of pumpkin matter."

Emily laughed, "So cute." She shook her head—and Cal couldn't help but agree with her.

"Well, don't worry, love," Cal said, "Em and I will clean your pumpkin out for you."

And they did.

When the pumpkins were properly hollowed, each of them set to the task of creating a specific jack-o-lantern. Cal couldn't help but steal glances at Gillian who was so very focused on carving out her pumpkin that the tip of her pink tongue darted out and rested at the corner of her mouth.

Cal felt the blood flow change directions as he noticed the way it casually moistened the spot it touched. He'd like to have five minutes alone with that tongue—the thought sent a shock through his body and he mentally chastised himself. He wasn't alone in his office or in his bedroom. He shook his head and looked to his daughter who, to his surprise, was staring directly back at him, grinning.

Cal looked at his daughter, mischief ever-present in her big brown eyes, and mouthed 'What?'

Emily's response was to roll her eyes—'What?' Cal mouthed again.

Emily rolled her eyes again and inclined her head toward Gillian, and mouthed, 'You are so obvious.'

Cal rolled his eyes then, and pulled an intensified angry face at his daughter. The look he shot her made Emily dissolve into giggles.

The laughter brought Gillian away from her task and she looked from Emily to Cal with a smile on her lips, "What?"

Emily and Cal shared a glance and then they both looked at Gillian,

"Nothing." They said simultaneously.

"Yeah, sure." Gillian made it clear she didn't believe it for a second, before turning her attention back to her pumpkin.

The three of them lapsed into a comfortable silence, and as Gillian paid particular attention to the mouth of her jack-o-lantern, she couldn't help but smile. She had been reluctant to come over to Cal's for many reasons, but now that she had come, she couldn't think of a better way to spend the holiday. She was having so much fun—and it was silly fun. She hadn't had silly fun in a long time and she hadn't realized how much she missed the carefree things.

Things had gotten so serious in her life as of late, and she had never really taken the time to stop and notice, let alone taken the time to rectify that situation. The ease she felt spending Halloween with the Lightmans wasn't something she felt very often these days.

Emily finished carving her pumpkin first, "Okay! I'm gonna go get the candles—nobody look at its face, yet" She looked at Gillian, "Can't look at the faces until the candle's in and the lights are out," She explained.

Gillian nodded her head in understanding.

After Emily had left the room, Cal looked at Gillian, "Tradition."

Gillian smiled, "You sure do have a lot of those around here."

He chuckled, "We do." Cal considered her for a moment, she was putting the finishing touches on her pumpkin and her brow had a slight wrinkle in it from concentrating. He felt his heart rate speed up before he added, "We're always looking for new ones, too."

Cal didn't miss the shocked expression that came over Gillian's face as the full weight of his words pressed down upon her. She glanced up from her pumpkin and her eyes met Cal's. She looked at him questioningly and—Cal couldn't contain the way his heart seemed to thud heavier in his chest—hopefully.

Cal simply turned his head to the right and pursed his lips, giving a nod that anyone else in the world would have missed. Gillian didn't miss it though and she felt her heart drop right down into her feet—she gasped a little bit as it fell through her stomach—and then she smiled at Cal, a big genuine smile that lit her whole face.

"You're beautiful." He breathed out, momentarily overcome by emotion.

Gillian parted her lips to respond but the response died on her tongue when Emily's voice came through the door, "You guys done?"

Gillian cut one more piece and nodded, as did Cal.

Emily handed out the candles to her father and Gillian before she took one herself. They all placed the candles in the pumpkin and took a match. Gillian struck hers and it burst into flames—Cal swallowed hard—it was such an unassuming gesture, but on her, he found it incredibly sexy.

As Gillian began to lower her match into the pumpkin, she was stopped by Cal's grip on her wrist. The contact startled her and she looked at him in surprise.

"You okay to do that, Foster?" Cal asked, his voice gruffer than normal. He hadn't meant for his voice to sound like that, but the undercurrent of desire that pulsed between them any time they touched seemed to take over.

Gillian nodded, silently, thankful for his concern. "The guts are gone," She said, her voice unusually meek.

Cal nodded once and released her wrist—both of them felt a significant feeling of loss at the dropped contact.

Emily smiled as she trotted over to the lightswitch and turned it off—

"I now present to you the Lightman Family Pumpkins of 2010."

Gillian's heart constricted at the phrase Emily uttered, and Cal, anticipating her reaction, reached out and touched her arm. She met his gaze and he gave a slight nod, while pursing her lips.

Words were sometimes so unnecessary between the two of them that it sometimes frightened Gillian—She understood his meaning.

Gillian laughed as Emily took out her camera and snapped a picture of their pumpkins—

Uploaded to the internet the next day was three pumpkins, side by side—one was a very happy pumpkin with triangle eyes, a round nose, and a toothy grin. One was a particularly grumpy pumpkin with slanted, thick eyebrows, detailed eyes and a stubborn frown. And the other, carved into a particularly misshapen pumpkin, was silly and carefree—round eyes, triangle nose, and a tongue sticking out of its happy mouth.

Gillian regarded Cal, "If you were going for scary, you missed the mark." She said, arching one eyebrow.

"So I did, love. But," He began, "It's hard to work against one's emotions." Cal said.

Gillian's head tilted in silent question.

Smiling, he observed Gillian using only the candlelight from the pumpkins as his guide: "If _you_ were going for happiness, love," he said, bringing his hand up to touch her jaw line, "You hit the mark."

Gillian let his words wash over her—she felt as though the world were shrunk down to simply the two of them, there, standing in his living room. Her lips parted slightly and her head tilted in the opposite direction as her eyes filled with something that was particularly unreadable to Cal. She searched her vernacular for words that would make sense—for words that would help or be enough, and as her mind settled on them and she summoned her will to speak, which had momentarily lapsed, a loud shrill noise came from the kitchen.

The noise startled Gillian, and her eye darted from Cal's eyes to his mouth. His thumb lightly stroked where it was touching, "Round one, done." Cal said, grinning. The pad of his thumb moved in a light circle on her jaw, "Hold that though, love." He said, leaning into her. He tore himself away and marveled at the feeling of loss—

He glanced from Emily, who was watching the scene before her with unabashed delight.

"Dinner's ready." He said, looking at Gillian, who stood motionless in the center of the living room—her beauty ever-present even in the relative darkness.

Shaking her head slightly, Gillian watched as Cal made his way into the kitchen and she was left alone with Emily in the living room. She looked at the teenage girl and a smile came over Gillian's face—

"Good," Gillian sighed, "I'm starving." She walked over to Emily and put her arm around the girl as they went into the dining room.

"I bet." Emily muttered under her breath. Her joy was impossible to contain as she wrapped her own arm around Gillian's waist so they were walking in a type of embrace.

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_To Be Continued-_

_In the following chapters: Baking time! Movie Time! Emily scheming Time! Not necessarily in that order!_

_Say hello/i love it/i hate it if you get a moment._


	7. Let's BAKE, yeah?

_A/N: Hello, and welcome to chapter 7- the BAKING chapter. (oooh, ahhhh). Now, there is a specific type of disclaimer attached to this chapter: I was sick when I wrote it. So, if it's horrible- that's why. _

_Also, I am afraid that my self-imposed deadline will not be met as tomorrow is TECHNICALLY Halloween. And unless I write a massive chapter, I won't be able to finish it by then. BUT, I will finish it at the same quick pace I've been working. Sorry. :(_

_Again- THANK YOU TIMES A BAJILLION for your wonderful, wonderful reviews. They provide me with inspiration when my fingers and wrists start to hurt and I feel like "blahhh, why am I writing."_

_Okay! Here's chapter 7! :)_

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Gillian, Cal and Emily all sat around the dinner table finishing the last bites of their dinner. Cal had made chili and cornbread and every single bite had been delicious.

"Dad makes the best chili." Emily said proudly as she reached for her can of Coke on the table.

"I'll agree with that." Gillian said, picking up her glass of water.

"Thank you very much." Cal said as his gaze shifted between the two women before him.

Cal had learned how to cook the chili from his grandfather, actually. It was one of the only things he'd been able to do with the man before he'd died. Cal was only eleven at the time, but the interest his grandfather showed in Cal when they were in the kitchen together was addictive. His grandfather had been a stingy man with his affection, and Cal learned to seek it any way he could. At the beginning, that meant feigning interest in learning to cook the chili. Eventually, it turned into actually wanting to learn. So, Cal learned. And he made the chili every Halloween.

"So," Emily's eyes sparkled, "What's for dessert?"

Gillian grinned, "Pumpkin something or other." She replied.

Cal laughed, "Obviously."

"Well, what would you like?" Gillian asked.

Emily's eyes widened, "Pumpkin pie—No, pumpkin cheesecake—pumpkin cookies! Pumpkin bread!"

Her enthusiasm was humorous, and Gillian and Cal exchanged a glance across the table. "We can't make all of those, Em." Gillian said, chuckling softly.

"I know," Emily smiled, "Which ones can you make?"

"I can make any of those you want, but we should probably just start with one."

Emily consulted her father by way of a glance—Cal lifted his eyebrows and thrust his hands out in front of him, "It's up to you, darling." He said.

Emily chewed on her lip, "How about pumpkin _cupcakes_?" She asked.

Gillian nodded, "Yes, Emily, we can make those."

Emily grinned and Gillian rose from her chair and began to pick up the dishes in front of her. She nearly gasped when she felt Cal's hand on her wrist. "No, love. I'll do all that. Just go ahead," He inclined his head toward the kitchen and smiled at her.

Gillian nodded and motioned for Emily to come with her.

Cal gathered up the dishes and allowed his mind to wander. The thought that came to him surprised him: _So that's what has been missing_. Throughout the years, Cal had come to cherish Halloweens with his family. He recognized that this once included his ex-wife Zoe, but the past few years he'd come to cherish Halloweens with his daughter.

Gillian's presence, however, had given him a new perspective. Gillian usually gave him a new perspective. He walked into the kitchen and observed Gillian and his daughter. They had the pumpkin on its side, split completely in half.

"Now, you want to scoop all the insides out." Gillian said.

At her words, Cal snuck up behind her. He heard her inhale sharply and a devilish grin crossed his face, "You okay to do that, Gill?" He used her nickname as his lips moved dangerously close to her ear.

She sighed, "I told you, Cal," her voice betrayed her amusement, "I'm fine when it comes to baking."

He chuckled, "Alright. Just checking." He backed away and went back into the dining room to gather more dishes.

So, it was Gillian that had been missing all those years. Cal felt guilty at the thought. He and his ex-wife weren't necessarily on the best of terms—their relationship was tumultuous to say the least. But they weren't on the worst of terms, either, so the thought made him feel sad. Zoe was a lovely mother, he recognized that. You can't raise a child as wonderful as Emily without one.

But, he thought, Gillian was _born_ to be a mother.

Zoe and Gillian were like night and day. Zoe fought tooth and nail _not _to be domestic. Gillian reveled in it. Gillian reveled in things like baking. And she could make pumpkin cheesecake, pie, cupcakes, bread and heavens knew what else. He heard the sound of soft laughter coming from the kitchen and he knew, no matter how cold the thought, that Gillian was the missing piece to this very peculiar puzzle.

Cal juggled glasses in his hands and walked back to the kitchen.

"So, wait, you put the pumpkin in the pan and just let it kind of boil there?" Emily asked.

Gillian laughed, "No, not boil exactly—steam."

Emily nodded and peered into the pot on the stove. "Cool."

Gillian smiled at Emily and Cal watched as an expression of genuine love passed across Gillian's face.

Cal finished placing all of the dirty dishes into the dishwasher and dried his hands on a towel. He sat down on a barstool and observed as Emily peppered Gillian with questions as Gillian began preparing the other ingredients for the cupcakes.

He watched as she moved about his kitchen, clad in that sexy ninja costume, opening cupboards and searching for everything she needed. Cal felt his heart open and receive fully the situation playing out in front of him: Gillian Foster looked as though she absolutely _belonged_ in the Lightman kitchen.

Cal idly picked up a book and pretended to read. He did, in fact, try to read, but the lull of the voices of two of his favorite people in the world ended up being too much. He peered over the book at Gillian and Emily.

They had returned to the pot on the stove and Emily was poking at the pumpkin with a fork—

"Does it feel soft?"

Emily prodded the pumpkin again, "Yeah."

"Then it's done." Gillian replied, nodding slightly. "Next," she said with an exaggerated smile, "We puree."

"Ooh." Emily said. She was only half joking. In truth, she was truly in awe of Gillian Foster. Emily had always had a desire to learn to bake—but she hadn't had anyone to teach her, not really, anyway. Her mom would bake cookies with her sometimes, but never cookies made from scratch or anything like that. They were always the premade cookies that came in a tube. Emily didn't mind, of course, she loved her mother and she loved spending quality time with her. But she was truly excited to be learning how to _actually_ bake.

Cal watched as Gillian taught Emily how to puree the pumpkin—within a matter of minutes, the pumpkin had been pureed properly and Gillian surveyed the mess on the counter in front of them. Gillian placed her hands on her hips and said, more to herself than anyone, "What next?"

Cal stifled a laugh as he watched Emily subconsciously adopt Gillian's posture.

Yes, Gillian was _born _to be a mother.

Feeling Cal's eyes on her, Gillian turned to look at him.

She fixed him with a look that he couldn't help but find incredibly sexy although he knew she was trying for stern, "Are you just going to sit there and watch us, Cal? Or are you actually going to _help_?" She asked.

Cal snapped his book closed and tossed it on the counter, he stalked towards her almost predatorily invading her personal space—Her eyes glistened as she looked at him, "Oh, I'll _help_, love." He said, innuendo slipping into his voice.

Gillian chuckled softly and placed a hand on his chest, "Good." she said as she playfully pushed him back.

Emily was surveying the ingredients and managed to miss the exchange, so she was somewhat startled when her father appeared next to her, "Right." He said, clapping his hands together, "What do we do?"

"We mix stuff." Gillian said, excitedly.

"Mix stuff." Cal repeated, amusement evident in his tone, "What stuff?"

Gillian took it upon herself to delegate, "Emily, why don't you mix the brown sugar, granulated sugar, butter and eggs in that large bowl right there," She pointed to a blue bowl to Emily's left. Emily nodded and scooped up the ingredients. She began by cracking the eggs.

Cal watched his daughter as a microexpression of happiness passed over her face, and he felt his heart swell.

Gillian looked at him out of the corner of her eye, "You," she said, pointing at him in an almost accusatory fashion, "Mix the flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt, cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg and allspice in this bowl." She placed the medium sized bowl in front of Cal with a flourish.

Cal stared at her, "Mind repeating those, love?" He said as he looked at the ingredients spread out before him.

Gillian laughed, "We'll do it together." She said, shaking her head.

"I like the sound of that," Cal said as he leaned forward and leered at her.

Cal's comment earned him the pleasure of watching a faint blush crawl up Gillian's neck and settle on her cheeks.

Gillian cleared her throat and picked up the flour—she poured it in a measuring cup, and dropped it in the bowl.

Cal hadn't taken his eyes off of her and she felt his hot gaze on her face. She refused to make eye contact and Cal leaned in closer to her. As he spoke, Gillian could feel his breath on her ear,

"I see _you_ like the sound of that too."

Gillian flushed a deeper shade of red, and almost without thinking, she reached her hand into the bowl, pinched some flour between her fingers and flicked it at him.

She watched as the flour landed on his body—some of it on his face, some of it on his black shirt. Cal flinched and his mouth hung open.

"You didn't just do that."

As if to prove her point, Gillian took another pinch of flower and flicked it at him. The sprinklings fell mostly on his black shirt.

In an exaggerated movement, Cal wiped the flour off his shirt.

"You don't want to start with me, Foster." He said, setting his jaw.

"Oh?" She asked innocently, "I don't?" She looked at him coyly.

The look she gave him boosted his adrenaline and made him momentarily light headed because of how quickly his blood changed directions.

"No." He said, leaning into her, "You don't."

She considered him for a moment, clearly mulling over his words, she finished with a shrug as she pursed her lips, "Hm," She said, and it came out as one of the sweetest and most adorable noises Cal Lightman had ever heard. She reached her hand into the bag of flour and she rolled her eyes a little bit, "I think that I do." She took her hand out of the bag and threw half of a handful of flour right in his face.

Emily then turned to look at the events going on beside her and she immediately started laughing hysterically. She walked around so she could get a better view of her father. He stood in front of Gillian, who, for her part, was smiling rather mischievously. His mouth was agape and flour speckled his hair and dusted his shoulders.

"Ohmygod," Emily said, and it came out all in one word, "This is priceless!" She said.

Cal looked at Gillian and he marveled at her beauty—she was standing before him, a silly girlish grin on her face and she was the most adorable woman he had ever seen.

She looked at him and raised one eyebrow, and then she could no longer contain her laughter. She dissolved into laughter, and Cal reveled in the sound for a moment before he began to chuckle. It was a slow, deep chuckle that started in his belly and contained within it nearly everything he felt for Gillian Foster—including immense, heavy and deep desire.

"You think this is funny, do you?" He said as he looked between Gillian and Emily.

Gillian and Emily looked at each other, "Yes." They concluded, unanimously.

Suddenly, without warning, Cal took the bowl from the counter and tossed it at Gillian.

He watched as shock passed over her face and then he smiled as mischief returned to her eyes—she dug her hand in the bag of flour and pulled out a full handful and tossed it at Cal.

Emily, watching, but not wanting to get floury for purposes of her own, backed away slowly—and picked up her camera.

Cal read the intent in Gillian's eyes, and he grabbed her around the waist and tried to wrestle the bag from her. She was able to get another handful out and she threw it with as much force as one _can _throw flour at him, but he soon overpowered her and ripped the bag from her. Thrusting his hand inside, he returned Gillian's gesture and doused her with a handful of flour.

By this point they were laughing so hard they could scarcely breathe. Gillian reached for the bag, trying to get it out of Cal's death grip—but he would not let up. They both heard the bag tear and watched in what seemed like slow motion as the flour exploded from the bag and fell in a fit of powder to the floor at their feet.

They both let the bag go, but were bracing themselves against each other as their bodies quaked nearly uncontrollably with laughter.

Gillian tried to speak first, "You," She began, but found herself unable to continue, as another fit of laughter overtook her.

Emily, a silent happy observer spoke instead, "You two are _insane_." She said, laughing along with them.

Gillian finally brought herself upright and Cal followed suit. "You should have seen your face," Gillian finally finished as she put one hand on her abdomen and brought the other up to wipe a tear from her face.

Cal was still chuckling as well, "My face? You should have seen yours, darling. So innocent and indignant when _you're_ the one that started this whole thing."

"So I did," Gillian said, dusting her hands off, "And look at this mess."

"Worth it." Cal replied, his eyes still dancing with laughter.

Gillian busied herself with dusting the flour off herself, and Cal watched as she smoothed her delicate hands over her black skinny jeans and he couldn't help the feeling of longing that overcame him. Distraught by the depth of his desire for her, Cal turned away to find Emily snapping pictures of the two of them. He fixed her with a serious look and she just smiled and shrugged.

After much of the mess had been cleaned up, the three went back to work.

"Now, where were we?" Gillian asked as she grabbed another bag of flour.

"Don't even think about it." Cal said wagging his finger at her.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

When Emily was done adding her ingredients and Cal and Gillian were done adding theirs, Cal stepped back and resumed his position on the barstool. He picked up his book as artifice, but his eyes and attention remained on the scene before him.

Gillian was speaking gently to Emily, "Now, you want to add all of these together," Gillian took the dry ingredients and put them together in Emily's large blue bowl—"Then, go ahead and start whisking." Gillian said as she handed the silver whisk to Emily.

Emily smiled excitedly as she took the instrument from Gillian. She began whirling it around the bowl, "Like this?" Emily questioned.

"Mm, try it a little bit slower," Gillian said, and Emily adjusted the speed.

"There you go." Gillian said.

Cal was struck by the ease of the evening. Gillian was a delightful teacher, and Emily was such a willing student. Cal knew that Emily loved Gillian, he just didn't realize quite how much until this particular evening. Sitting in his kitchen, he watched the two women before him and he pondered the many ways in which both of them had absolutely changed his life.

Things were easy with Gillian in a way they never had been with Zoe. Cal had loved Zoe—absolutely. But things were either fire and brimstone or raw and passionate between the two of them, there was never an in between and it always felt like something was lacking in their relationship and ultimately within their family. Things were never easy with Zoe—things were never peaceful. His heart never swelled the way it did seeing Gillian and Emily together. He shook his head—once again, he knew he should feel some sort of shame at that, but the moment before him stretched out so beautifully that he simply could not bring himself to find an ounce of shame in the way he felt.

Cal watched as Gillian and Emily added the pureed pumpkin and poured the batter into the waiting pan.

"How long, Gill?" Emily asked.

"About 20 to 25 minutes." Gillian said.

"Perfect!" Emily responded, "That'll give me plenty of time to get ready for my party!"

Emily was already out of the kitchen and halfway up the stairs before her words completely registered with Cal. He barreled out of the kitchen—

"Oi!" He shouted, and Emily stopped in her tracks but didn't turn around, "I'm talking to you, young lady," He said, his tone rather stern.

Emily whipped around on the stairs revealing a big smile.

"What?" She said, feigning innocence.

"What do you mean 'What?'" Cal said as Gillian came through the kitchen door to watch the father-daughter drama unfold.

"I'm going to a party." Emily said matter-of-factly, shrugging her shoulders.

"I never said you could go to a party." Cal said.

"No," Emily agreed. "But Mom did." She grinned.

Cal was at a loss for words—he took two steps toward her and squinted his eyes.

"Well, I say you can't go."

Emily rolled her eyes, "Too late, Dad. I sent in the RSVP two weeks ago, and Mom talked to Hannah's parents and everything." Reading his concern she continued, "It's just a sleepover, Dad. Girls only."

"It's _not_ too late." Cal said.

"It _is._" Emily argued.

Gillian touched Cal's arm, "Cal—let her go." Cal turned to look at Gillian who was looking at him with gentleness written all over her face. His gaze softened a bit as he turned his attention back to Emily.

"Your mum said you could go?" He asked.

"Yep." Emily confirmed.

"Girls only?"

"Yep."

He analyzed her face for signs of deceit. He glanced at Gillian and she nodded slightly. Cal returned his gaze to his daughter and determined Emily was telling the truth.

Cal sighed. "Alright." He said reluctantly.

Emily clapped her hands and finished climbing the stairs.

"That daughter of mine will be the death of me." Cal said, turning to Gillian.

Gillian smiled at him.

"I'm just gonna go have a word with her, yeah?"

Gillian nodded, "I'll be in the kitchen."

Something in her tone made Cal look at her face—he saw sadness. He considered asking her about it, but decided there would be time for that later. Cal turned on his heel and ascended the staircase.

Gillian made her way in the kitchen and began cleaning up the mess they'd made. She was surprised to feel the tears begin to prick at the back of her eyelids. _Don't be silly, Gillian_. She repeated that phrase to herself several times. Something in Cal's tone of voice had made her sad—and she had known immediately why Cal went upstairs to talk to Emily. It was because of her—Emily had invited her over and Cal was less than thrilled about it because now Emily was leaving and he didn't want to spend the rest of the evening alone with her.

Gillian sighed and shook her head.

Cal knocked softly on Emily's door.

When he heard the girl say "Come in." He pushed the door open and leaned on the jamb.

"What do you think you're doing, young lady?"

"Getting ready?" She said.

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

Emily shrugged, "Quit trying to act like you're mad." She said putting a pair of earrings on.

"Emily." Cal said gently, "You've got to learn to mind your own business."

Emily fixed him with a look, "Sorry, dad, but this _is _my business. Your happiness is my business." When Cal looked at her questioningly, she rolled her brown eyes, "You're happy when you're with Gill. _I'm _happy when we're all together—_she's _happy." Cal didn't look unconvinced, "Look at you!" She said, waving her arm out in front of her.

Cal looked down at himself. Flour still covered his dark clothing, little white spots were everywhere. He looked at Emily.

"When are you _ever_ like this?" She asked.

Cal shrugged, "That's not the point."

"It's exactly the point, Dad." Emily sighed. "And besides," a smirk crossed her face, "You've waited long enough."

"For what?"

Emily raised her eyebrows and shoulders simultaneously, "You know."

Cal shook his head and narrowed his eyes, "You don't know what you're playing at, Em." He pointed his finger at her for emphasis.

Emily, undeterred, laughed lightly, "No, Dad, I think sometimes that _you_ don't."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Emily stepped closer to him and clapped her hand down on his shoulder. She looked him deep in the eye and sent him a look she knew he'd be able to read, "Figure it out."

None of the meanings of that particular phrase were lost on Cal Lightman.

* * *

_To Be Continued!_

_Chapter 7 should likely be posted on Halloween! I believe it will include movie-watching of some sort or another._

_again, apologies if this chapter is not up to par._

_Paz, etc.:_

_N-Dizzle_


	8. Bye, Emily!

_A/N: You guys are incredible. I'll now stop giving my personal opinions on the chapters! I swear I wasn't fishing-but you guys continue to be absolutely wonderful!_

_I now bring you this brief 3,200 word interlude in our little tale._

_Also, I know I'm taking rather large liberties with time and what would have taken probably around 3-4 hours has actually only taken about two in fic time. Ah, creative control. Fear not, I have not forgotten about the trick-or-treaters, and they are coming. However they might not make their appearance until after Halloween (in real life). Grumble Grumble Grumble.  
_

_I had originally planned to make Chapter 8 about watching the movie-but I realized there was more to say. So, here, have it!: _

_I love hearing from all of you-compliments, concrit, whatever you have, send it my way._

* * *

Gillian was standing in the kitchen frosting the cupcakes while Cal stood over the dining room table wiping it down with a rag.

Emily bounded down the stairs, still clad in her witch costume. She had an expectant smile on her face and her purple duffle bag slung over her arm. She threw her father an exasperated look that had him following her into the kitchen.

"Well, Gillian, I'm heading over to Hannah's!" She said, coming up beside Gillian who was smearing a large amount of frosting on the last cupcake.

Emily smiled and picked up a cupcake, biting into it, she felt the taste hit her tongue. "Ohmygod, Gillian," She said around a mouthful. "This is seriously the best cupcake I've ever had. In my life." Emily finished, dramatically emphasizing each and every word.

Gillian laughed, "I'm glad you like them."

"Seriously. Dad, have you tried these?" She said before taking another bite.

Cal shook his head and smiled as he watched his daughter enjoy the cupcake, "Not yet." He said, "But I will."

"Good." Emily said, adjusting her duffle bag and popping the last bite of cupcake into her mouth. She discarded the orange wrapper in the trash, "Cause you seriously need to."

Gillian laughed as she put the spreader in the sink and licked the remaining frosting off her thumb. Cal glanced away—Gillian was so subtly sexy and she didn't even realize it. "How many girls will be at this sleep over?" Gillian asked.

Emily shrugged, "I think seven or eight."

Gillian opened two drawers before she found saran wrap. She grabbed a plate from the cupboard and began loading some of the cupcakes onto them. "Why don't you take these with you?" Gillian asked—and Emily looked hesitant.

Second-guessing herself, Gillian stumbled slightly, "You don't have to if you don't want to."

Emily laughed then, "It's not that—believe me!" She said, "I just wasn't sure I wanted to share."

Gillian smiled and her heart jumped a little innocent jump—"Pumpkins will be around for months—we can always make more."

Emily's eyes shone at the thought, "Yes, then. Definitely yes. I want to take some cupcakes to the sleepover," She nodded and looked at Gillian and her dad, "The girls will _love _them." Emily looked wistfully at the cupcakes, "_So Good_." She whispered in what seemed peculiarly like reverence.

Gillian and Cal exchanged amused glances, and Gillian finished wrapping them up. Emily smiled brightly, in that way that only she could, as Gillian handed her the plate.

Emily looked at Gillian with a look of gratitude that Gillian acknowledged with a little reverent smile. Emily was thrilled to be taking these cupcakes to the sleepover. Since she was a child she'd only had store bought sweets to bring to her classes on her birthdays and she couldn't wait to share these homemade goodies with her friends. She would tell them—she paused, what _would_ she tell them? She laughed internally at the dilemma—She'd tell them she baked them with her—her what? Her father's business partner? Her mentor? Her friend? The phrases all seemed so miniscule compared to what Gillian actually was to her. A mischievous smile crossed Emily's face—she could always tell them that she'd baked them with the woman her father was madly in love with. She grinned and her eyes shone with delight—with a slight shrug of her shoulders she decided she'd just tell them she made them with her Gillian. They all knew who she was, anyway.

Watching Emily's face contort with her interior monologue, Cal and Gillian both looked perplexed as Emily accepted the proffered plate and leaned up slightly to kiss Gillian on the cheek, "Thanks so much, Gillian!" She said as she turned and made her way over to her dad.

"See you later, Dad!" She said, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek.

Cal caught her by the hand. "No alcohol." He said firmly—Emily rolled her eyes, he leaned down until she was staring in his eyes—he put a finger close to her nose, "Hey. No alcohol." He said again.

"Of course." Emily said, and she sighed. Her dad was so overprotective sometimes. Emily headed out the kitchen door, and she stopped and turned around, her eyes twinkling, "You guys have fun," She put extra emphasis on that final word, "Love you!" She said to the room as she walked out, her brown hair swaying softly behind her.

Cal called out, "Love you too, Em!" Gillian stood in silence.

Cal observed her and read her expression, "She was talking to you, too." He said, giving her a comforting smile.

Gillian nodded slightly, almost imperceptibly, before she turned back to the cupcakes. She put the remaining cupcakes on another plate and tried to contain multitude of feelings going on in her psyche. Chief among them at the moment were dread and sadness.

Sighing, she finished transferring the cupcakes and turned around to face Cal. When she turned around, she noticed he was looking at her with that strangely intense look he tended to get from time to time.

"What?" She said, suddenly very self-conscious. They were alone. For the first time that entire day the two of them were alone. In his house. After sharing—she shook her head. She wasn't entirely sure _what_ they had shared—a lovely time, certainly. But she knew it felt more than that.

Cal shook his head, his gaze still heavy on her, "Nothing."

Gillian sighed—and even as she chastised herself, she felt the tears spring to her eyes in an unfamiliar way. She blinked hard, uncomfortable with the display. She inhaled, "Look, Cal…" She began, flicking her gaze to his and then away again.

He stared at her, turning his head to the side, squinting harder than before—he was trying to figure it out. Trying to figure out what was going on inside that beautiful head of hers. Cal imagined her brain—the cogs turning and turning upon one another and eventually stopping at a decidedly wrong conclusion if her face were any indication. The weight hung between them.

Cal waited for her to continue—to give something else away with her words. Her words were all she had when she was with him and though it didn't seem like it at times, he really did try to leave them for her when they were together.

Gillian, however, was reluctant to give them. She clutched at them and Cal read hesitation in her face and in her body.

She took a deep breath, "I don't have to—" her voice trailed off and she waved her hand around, trying to supplement the gesture for actual words.

Cal shook his head, "Sorry, love, you're going to have to do more." He put his hands in his pockets and stepped toward her.

She met his gaze. "Stay." She finished. "I don't have to stay." She turned her back to him and played with the saran wrap—she didn't see Cal trying to speak, so she rushed on, "I know it was Emily's idea to bring me over today and I had fun, really, I did. But I know she kind of sprung this on you and well, she sprung it on me, too, so I don't have to stay, I can just go home and—" her words rushed out and Cal thought how adorable they would sound if they weren't rooted in something so _wrong_.

She was still busy speaking, but Cal wasn't listening. So engrossed in her words was she that Gillian did not hear him come up behind her—when his hands found their way onto her biceps, lightly squeezing, she jumped slightly and wondered if they shouldn't switch costumes.

Cal's fingertips put light pressure on her biceps and he leaned his head to the back of hers. He inhaled and said, simply, "Don't be silly."

She opened her mouth and a protest came out, but he spun her around—heavier pressure on her left arm as he turned her to face him. She was stunned into silence when she met his gaze—his face only inches from hers.

Cal reached up and touched her hair—playing with it between his fingers, he leaned into her, "I said, don't be silly."

Gillian opened her mouth to respond but found it incredibly dry—she swallowed, hard, and the sight was not lost on Cal—nor was the emotion lingering on her face. "But," She started again.

Cal wasn't about to let her go down that road again. In truth, he was tired of letting her wander down that road—it was a road that did neither of them any good.

Cal tilted his head, "Do you want to stay?"

Gillian looked at him and Cal watched the answer form on her face.

He shook his head, "Say it."

Gillian paused, she felt slightly embarrassed by precisely how much she wanted to stay. She forced the words out trying to calm the quiver in her voice, "Yes." She said finally.

Cal prodded, "Yes what?"

He was making her be explicit. Gillian's chest heaved and nervousness settled in throughout her body, "Yes, I want to stay."

Cal's gaze was fierce as he shrugged his shoulders slightly, "Stay." His voice was commanding and Gillian noticed the gruffness in it.

Gillian's eyes searched his and what she found there excited and terrified her at the same time. She felt her stomach tie itself into a giant knot, and she couldn't control the way her breath came in shallow gasps.

Cal read her question—"I want you to stay." He said, leaving no question about his feelings on the matter.

Gillian pursed her lips and nodded her head—a small smile beginning to form. "Okay." She said simply.

Cal nodded, "Okay." He said, and released her—he stepped back from her and he let his eyes wander over her body. Oh yes, he most definitely wanted Gillian Foster to stay.

Gillian licked her lips as she watched Cal's eyes travel her body. Sometimes she really wished that he wouldn't do that—it was a normal response, she reminded herself. It had nothing to do with _her_—it had to do with Cal and his nature. She steadied her breathing as she placed one had behind her on the kitchen counter as she tried to ignore the tiny voice whispering inside her that told her how wrong she actually was.

Cal grinned at her then, showing his teeth, "Besides," He said, placing his hands out in front of him, "I seem to remember you extracting a promise from me…"

Gillian's eyes lit up at the memory.

"And it's not like Gillian Foster to let me weasel my way out of a promise." The look Cal gave her was childish in its nature and she couldn't help but feel her heart go soft.

This man.

She chuckled then, lightly, "No." She said, "It's not."

Relief washed over him as he realized that Gillian was going to stay. He couldn't contain the look of utter happiness that came to his face—he couldn't control the way it nuzzled itself throughout his body as his heart pulsed at the thought of spending time alone with Gillian Foster.

"Right. So, what torture device have you brought for me, then?" He asked, indicating his head toward the table where the DVD sat.

"Ah," she said with a flourish as she walked over to the table and picked the DVD up. Cal watched as her graceful fingers slid over the cover as if she were showing something very delicate off. He closed his eyes tightly as he tried to bite back the images her hands, delicate and feminine, were bringing forward—he tried not to envision her fingers sliding over something else—something decidedly his.

The face Cal was making in his efforts must have been comical because Gillian gave him a strange look before an odd smile crept over her face and she inclined her head to one side and shook it slightly as if to say, 'what?'

Cal shoved his hands deep into his pockets in order to better cover the true path of his thoughts, "What is it then?" He asked, his voice coming out more raw than normal.

Gillian grinned—and Cal thought again how breathtakingly beautiful she was. "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown." She said, an expression of genuine happiness coming over her face.

Cal's face, on the other hand, fell—"Foster." He said, sternly, "No." He shook his head, "A cartoon? You have _got_ to be kidding me." He sighed and ran a hand over his face.

Gillian shook her head, the smile still intact, "Nope." She assured, "Not kidding."

Cal groaned, "But…but…" He stumbled for words but didn't catch any.

"You promised, Cal." She shrugged, her happiness not derailed by his apparent misery, "Besides, you've never even seen it. You won't know until you give it a chance."

"Oh, please," He replied before saying, "Oh, alright."

It wasn't until Cal's tone registered with Gillian that her face finally fell. Cal watched as her face scrunched up in a genuine expression of hurt. Her eyes fixed on the floor as she spoke, "I didn't bring this movie over to torture you, Cal."

Cal felt a wave of guilt rush over him—he was always hurting her. It was as though he were a madman at times—he would hurt her so brutally sometimes. Other times, he would hurt her gently, like now. He would hurt her in big ways and Cal's stomach dropped to think of how many little ways he'd hurt her. "Bloody hell," He said on an exhalation. He reached out to touch her arm, "I know you didn't," he said, "I'm sorry."

She still didn't meet his gaze—her stomach felt worse than ever and she felt silly for allowing his flippant remarks to do her damage. "It's okay." She said.

He put his finger to her chin and lifted it up to look at him. "It's not." He said, shaking his head once. He dipped his chin, "I'm sorry." He said firmly.

The light returned to her eyes when she saw the sincerity in his voice. She chastised herself for being so sensitive before she responded, "It's okay."

Cal considered her for a moment and let his finger drop but he did not back away—he liked the proximity of his hips to hers and the way he could smell her scent. He hated hurting her—"Why _did_ you bring it?" He questioned, playing at the emotion he had watched pass over her face when she'd told him she didn't bring the movie to torture him.

She laughed lightly and smiled with a little shrug, "Tradition."

Cal laughed then, "Oh?"

Gillian nodded and let her mind wander back. Cal watched her go there, and his eyebrows rose. Knowing he wanted to hear it, Gillian sighed. She would tell him. Of course, she would tell him.

"We used to watch it every Halloween night—my parents and I." Gillian's voice was quiet—so quiet that Cal almost felt the need to lean in closer so he could hear her speak. She averted her gaze from his eyes, concentrating instead on his shoulder, "It was a peace offering." She said simply.

"A peace offering?"

Gillian bit her lip and nodded, "Yeah." She steeled herself against the rush of memory that still seemed so raw even all these years later, "My parents had a huge fight one year the day before Halloween when I was really little—maybe five or six. I don't remember the details, but my father left and he didn't come back until the next day" Cal watched her face intently as the varied emotions settled on her face and then changed, "And he had that movie with him. We sat down and watched it that Halloween night and it was peaceful." She shook her head—"He didn't drink before we watched it. He didn't drink during it." Her voice dipped lower, "And for many years, I think until I was in high school, he didn't drink after it."

Cal nodded, finally understanding.

"So," She sighed, a smile stretching at her face—but it was an odd smile, one he didn't see often on her, "We watched that movie every single Halloween until I left for college. It was a small…" She paused, searching for the right word, "Reprieve… from the anger and hostility—from the drinking." She chuckled lightly, "This movie," She said, "represents a little piece of happiness in a world that wasn't otherwise. However silly that may be."

"It's not." Cal took her hand in his, lightly running his thumb over her index finger. "I'm sorry, love." He said, and she looked at him then and saw that he meant for everything. Cal was sorry for making her feel badly about her choice in movie and he was sorry for everything that had happened in her childhood.

Gillian nodded her head lightly in an almost ritualistic fashion as she took in the man before her. He had a knack for hurting her—most of the time he wasn't even aware he was doing it. But Cal also had an uncanny ability to take blame for things in which he had played no part—her childhood, for instance. She was relieved the first time she told him about her father's drunkenness to not see an ounce of pity on his face.

In truth, Cal had loved her too much in the right way, even back then, to feel pity for her. Cal felt sympathy, instead—the difference is often unclear, but it is a crucial one.

Gillian regarded him tenderly, "Thanks." She said, simply.

Cal was still caressing her hand and Gillian marveled at the feel of electricity that bubbled over her skin. It was like a trail of heat wherever the pad of his thumb touched and she nearly shuddered to think what his fingers could do elsewhere on her body.

Recognizing the dangerous turn her thoughts were trying to take, she smiled up at him—he pressed the back of her hand with his thumb and then started backward, tugging on her hand—

"Come on, love." He pulled her forward slightly and then released her hand. He led her out of the kitchen grabbing the plate of cupcakes and the bowl of popcorn on his way out, "Let's go watch this movie, yeah?"

Cal didn't wait for Gillian to answer—he didn't need her to. She followed behind him clutching the movie against her hip.

Excitement coursed through her veins and her heart dropped a little bit further down than it normally did—she felt a tinge of fear as she realized just what she was doing.

She would share this part of herself with Cal Lightman. She shuddered—

If Gillian wasn't careful, there would be nothing about her Cal didn't know.

* * *

_To Be Continued-_

_I promise, they'll get to the movie!_

_Also, I'll try to update again tomorrow on actual Halloween! My family's coming over for *gasp* chili tomorrow, so, we'll see._

_(are you wondering now how much of my real life I put into these stories?) ;)_

_You're all so lovely. Thank you. See you sooooon!_

_-Natalie  
_


	9. Denominational Differences

_A/N: Hello, all! Well, I missed Halloween update- and I even missed an All Saints Day update. But, fear not, I am here with more of this fic!_  
_The content in THIS chapter is what inspired the story to begin with (The Peanuts movie) and my original intent had been to incorporate the movie thoroughly. However, that's just silly since not everyone has seen it- so, i took it in a slightly different direction! :)_

Okay, here's chapter 9!:

* * *

Cal led Gillian into the living room and set the popcorn bowl and the plate of cupcakes down on the coffee table. Looking at her, he took the movie from her hands, his fingers lightly grazing her hip, and he smiled as he popped the DVD into the player and closed it.

Gillian sat tentatively on the couch and watched as Cal got the movie ready to go. She couldn't believe she was actually going to watch this movie with him. It was a silly cartoon movie, but the last time she ventured to show it to someone else, she had been mortified. It had been Alec, he had laughed at her reactions to the film, and eventually he had gotten up and left her sitting alone on the couch, the faint glow of the TV on her face as she tried to keep the tears at bay.

As the start menu appeared on the screen, Gillian felt her nerves stiffen inside of her as she watched Cal settle himself onto the other side of the couch. He looked at her with a smile, "Ready?"

He had the remote control poised and ready as Gillian nodded—and just as he moved his finger to press play, the sound of the doorbell interrupted them.

It echoed in the house and Cal watched as Gillian's face lit up—"Trick-or-treaters," Cal said, and Gillian nodded. "I'll go grab the candy, you get the door, yeah?"

Gillian stood up and walked over to the door, she swung it open and saw three children standing before her, ranging in age from approximately 4-8. Two little girls—one was dressed as Cinderella, the other was dressed as Minnie Mouse and a boy who was dressed like an artist. He had on a floppy hat, put off to one side, and a white frock on and he carried a paintbrush with him.

Gillian felt her heart expand as she took in the sight before her—She said "Hello!" as Cal came around the corner with the bowl of candy, "Trick or treat!" The children said in unison, and the little boy smiled to reveal two missing front teeth.

Smiling and complimenting their costumes, Gillian grabbed a piece of candy and put it in the bag that each child proffered. "Thanks!" They murmured as they walked away—and Gillian issued a "Have fun out there" to excited squeals.

Cal and Gillian stood at the door for 45 minutes while a barrage of children descended upon Cal's house. They chatted with some of the parents briefly, and laughed at some of the costumes that showed up at the door.

Mainly, though, Cal watched Gillian. Had he not been so practiced at reading people, he would've only seen happiness written on her face—but, he was practiced at reading people, so with every parent and child that came to the door, he saw much more.

He saw happiness, of course. Gillian loved children—interacting with them, laughing with them. But he also read her sadness—and her pain. And he read, very specifically, envy. She was envious of the parents parading their children out for this silly holiday, gathering up candy to eat later.

Gillian was envious of the parents that would go home and check their children's candy for opened pieces or suspicious pieces. She was jealous of the parents that would have to deal with screaming and hyper children all hopped up on sugar and excitement. She was envious that some of the parents would have to do a massive clean up after their children ate too much of the collected candy. She was sad that she wouldn't get to sit up and stroke her child's hair—whispering 'goodnight,' as she tucked the child into bed with a "Happy Halloween" and a kiss on the forehead.

When the barrage slowed down and they were given a reprieve, Gillian shut the door and leaned against it, smiling faintly, a slight furrow in her brow.

"Alright, Darling?" Cal asked her.

She sighed, knowing that he already knew the answer—"Yes." she said, and then gave him a guilty look as she amended, "For the most part."

Cal nodded, accepting this truth, and led her back to the couch.

They sat down on their respective ends and Cal looked at her, his chin raised slightly in appraisal, "Want to talk about it?"

She looked at him and hesitated—she wasn't sure that she actually _did_ want to talk about it. There wasn't much she could say, really. She shrugged her shoulders, "Is there anything to say that you don't already know?" She asked him. Her tone was curt, but her words were free from malice and he knew she was referring to the fact that he had very astutely read her as she was standing at the door.

Cal smiled, "I don't think so," He reached out and touched her hand, and watched as her face softened at the gesture. There was no need for her to explain to him the varied emotions she felt—he'd watched them all—and, she knew, he felt them for her, too.

Cal thought it felt quite like somebody's cruel joke that Gillian wasn't a mother, and he let the sentiment, or some variant thereof slip into his eyes before he decided to change the subject, "Those robots were adorable," He said, withdrawing his hand.

Gillian smiled warmly at Cal—the ability he had not to dance around the subject of her pain was amazing to her and was one of her favorite things about him, actually. Most people, when they learned she couldn't be a mother, would avoid the topic of children altogether, almost pretending that the little people didn't exist. And if they did accidentally bring up children, they'd look at her with an odd mix of pity for her and shame at themselves for even bringing the topic up.

Cal was different—he acknowledged her pain, he knew that it existed, but he also knew that it didn't define her.

"They were so cute!" She said, "And so was that Minnie Mouse."

"The one with the lisp?" Cal asked.

"Oh, no, I meant the other one, but she was cute too."

They went on for a few minutes discussing the children and their various costumes, and Gillian busied herself with trying to dust the white remnants of the flour off her black pants.

Cal watched in amusement as she brushed at the powder on her pants and the little look of disappointment and then frustration that crossed her face when she found it wouldn't be removed. Cal then felt a stirring in his groin as he watched Gillian bring her fingers to her lips and moisten them with her tongue. After they were wet, she brought them down to rub on the stain. His own tongue darted out to lick his lips and his eyes were glued to her face as they fixated on Gillian's lips which were now lightly glistening with her efforts.

Gillian looked up to see Cal staring at her with an almost feral look—she felt it rush through her body as she took in his dilated pupils, and she watched as his lips parted slightly and his head turned to one side. Then, as if reprimanding himself, Cal's gaze turned to one of amusement, and he tried to subdue a smirk.

"What?" She asked, curious by the turn in his mood.

He waved his hand in her direction, "You." He said simply.

She shook her head slightly, "Me, what?"

"You—" he said again, "Trying to get that stain out." His smile spread evenly then.

"Oh, ha-ha, Cal, I'm a clean freak." She said, rolling her eyes.

He chuckled, "No—" He reconsidered, "Well, yeah—but that's not what I meant."

She looked at him and flashed him a look of annoyance, "Well, what _did_ you mean?"

He held her gaze—"Just watching your frustration at not being able to get the white powdery stains out—I thought you'd be used to it by now."

Cal watched as Gillian's mouth opened slightly, as though she were going to speak, and then closed again. "Is that—" she started, "Was that—" She trailed off, a small smile playing on her face.

"A cocaine joke? Yep."

Gillian rolled her eyes and let out a little laugh, "I was going to say 'the worst joke in the world,' but yeah, that works, too." She chuckled softly,

"Too soon?" Cal asked, playfulness abundant in his voice.

"Jesus, Cal," She said as her hand reached out to hit him playfully, "If you were anybody else..." She said as he caught her hand in his.

She tried to pull away, but he held it firmly.

"But I'm not anybody else." He said, filling in her blanks.

She felt her heart rate increase, and she knew that he could feel it too. "No," She said, "You're not."

Cal considered her for a moment, still holding her hand. She was smiling at him. Not with her mouth, it was relatively unexpressive at the moment, but with her eyes. She was smiling at him with her eyes, and he felt something in the pit of his stomach as he swallowed hard.

Finally releasing her hand, he picked up the DVD remote and hit play. The music on the screen drew Gillian's attention to the television as she watched her childhood friends come out to play.

Gillian felt a fresh bout of nervousness arise when she saw the characters on screen. The movie had always brought her a considerable amount of mirth and she was nervous about letting that joy show. After all, the last time she had, it hadn't turned out so well.

She corrected herself-that was Alec, _this_ is Cal. She felt warmth in her stomach at the thought. She should be ashamed of herself—Alec had been her husband. But, even still, she knew that Cal supported her in a way that Alec never had.

Gillian was free to demonstrate any emotion—well, almost any emotion, anyway—she wanted to Cal without fear of judgment or ridicule.

Her thoughts brought her comfort, so she let the smile slip onto her face as she watched Lucy and Linus on the television.

For his part, Cal divided his attention between the screen and Gillian. The unabashed joy she was displaying made his heart jump up into his throat. She was showing yet another aspect of herself to him, and the thought made exhilaration course through his body. He wanted, more than anything, _to know her_.

Gillian would occasionally steal glances at Cal, and she'd either find him engaged in the movie, or engaged with looking at her. She didn't mind either one, actually.

Cal watched as Lucy did her best to try to convince Charlie Brown that _this time_ she would _absolutely not_ remove the ball when he ran up to kick it.

Cal glanced at Gillian and then back at the screen, "Nah," he said, "She's lyin'—She's gonna pull that ball right out."

This elicited a rather girlish giggle from Gillian as she turned to look at him. He reveled in the sound she made as his eyebrows shot up and he grinned at her.

"Well, she is." He said, matter-of-factly.

He shot her a look of victory as Charlie Brown fell flat on his back earning him another genuine Gillian laugh.

Suddenly, Cal felt bereft as he took in the distance between them on the couch.

"Oi, what are we, middle schoolers?"

Gillian looked at him with a sense of confusion on her face—smiling, he indicated the distance between them on the couch with a wave of his hand. She laughed, and scooted closer to him on the couch.

She had to fight to contain the shudder that passed through her body at his warmth.

"There, that's better." He observed.

They were closer to one another, but not particularly touching. The heat, however, still radiated between them, even as a cartoon played on in front of them.

Trying to keep her mind from derailing into inappropriate territory, Gillian tore her thoughts from Cal Lightman and back to the movie in front of her.

She was engrossed in the movie when Linus said: _There are three things I have learned never to discuss with people: Politics, Religion, and The Great Pumpkin_.

Gillian nearly jumped when she heard Cal let out a rather loud chortle, and then she turned to find him with his head back, laughing.

She could not contain the flood of emotions that overcame her, then. Cal felt her eyes on him and looked at Gillian to find her staring at him with a bit of a wide-eyed expression as he watched her face flicker a myriad of emotions, all of them beautiful and wonderful in their own special way.

Cal watched as tears sprung to her eyes and she blinked them back—she felt absolutely overwhelmed and she knew she should feel silly but she just couldn't.

The movie was too important to her, and Cal's reaction to it caused something in her to break.

Cal had no words for her—no description or analysis to give of what was transpiring between them, so instead he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her to his body. She sighed as he pulled her head down on his chest and placed a kiss to the top of her head.

Neither of them said anything—Gillian just listened to Cal's heart beat a steady, albeit elevated rhythm into her ear.

For the rest of the movie, they maintained that position—Cal smiled every time he head Gillian's soft laughter and felt her body shake lightly next to his.

Happiness was the emotion he felt strongest during the duration of the movie, though he spent a minute trying to place it. It had been a long time since he felt anything more than general contentment—yet sitting on his couch, Gillian in his arms, her head on his chest brought him actual happiness.

He chuckled a few more times throughout the movie, and felt a pang of dread as the end credits rolled—he knew the end of the movie would mean that Gillian would disentangle herself from him.

Cal sighed as Gillian, as if cued by his thoughts, sat up—he looked to her face, but he couldn't see it because she was turned away from him.

"Hey." He said, and reached for her shoulder—she didn't turn to look at him, so he applied light pressure, "Hey." He said again, a bit more insistently.

Finally, she turned her head to him, and he understood then why she was so reluctant to look at him.

She was crying.

He saw the tracks running down her face even as she wiped at them with both of her hands.

He tilted his head and whispered, "Hey."

"I'm sorry," she said, "It's just—"

He cut her off, "Don't ever apologize for these." He told her as he reached up and plucked a freshly falling tear away from her face with the pad of his thumb.

She sniffled and Cal thought how adorable she was, "It's not even just sadness—it's just—" she waved her hand around and laughed—her nose was stuffy from the tears, so her consonants were somewhat dulled "Everything." She finished.

Cal nodded his understanding. "Makes sense." He said, "Bit overwhelming."

She laughed again, "Yeah. You could say that."

He smiled at her and she wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand and willed them not to come again.

"So," she began, "What do you think?" She asked, her head indicating the television.

He pondered her question for a moment and squinted at her, "I think," he started as he leaned forward on the couch—"You need a cupcake." He said as he reached his arm out, grabbed a cupcake and held it out in front of her.

She smiled, "Thanks," she took the cupcake and held it in her hand. She began to peel the paper down and looked at him imploringly.

Understanding she needed an answer, "I think it was cute—" he said, "And rather sophisticated, actually, for a cartoon."

She smiled brightly at him, convinced he was telling the truth, before she took a bite of the cupcake.

She delighted at the sweet taste on her tongue and Cal watched her eyes light up. Frosting settled itself into the corner of her mouth and Cal watch as she finished chewing, swallowed, and then began to clean the frosting with her tongue. He watched as her tongue snaked out, touched the frosting and brought it back inside. A look of pleasure crossed her face, as she tasted the frosting by itself, sans cupcake—

Cal's eyes grew heavy and dark and his voice was low when he spoke, "I take it back." He said and watched as confusion—and arousal at his tone—crossed her face, "_You'll_ be the death of me." His voice was gravelly and he didn't take his eyes off of her when he spoke.

Gillian was stunned into silence, so she took another bite of her cupcake. She finished chewing and swallowed, but this time she couldn't feel the frosting that had settled itself into opposite corner of her mouth.

Gillian's eyes were still on Cal's as a devilish grin crossed his face—his hand reached out and his index finger brushed the frosting away from the corner of her mouth. Cal watched as Gillian stilled completely at the contact—and he read the panic and desire evident on her face and in her body language.

Cal chuckled lightly—but it had no humor, simply desire. He held his finger between them as he spoke, "Now, do I let you have it back?" he asked, desire dripping from his words.

Gillian closed her eyes as the image of Cal putting his finger to her lips so she could clean it off flashed behind them. She stifled a groan and opened her eyes to find Cal looking at her intensely.

"Or," he said, his eyes darting from his finger back to her face, "Do I get greedy and have it for myself?"

Gillian watched as Cal's gaze grew even more ravenous, and she felt her heart speed up as he made a low sound in the back of his throat, "Hm," he issued the sound, and Gillian at once thought it incredibly _sexy_, "I think_ I'll_ have a taste,"

Gillian's eyes never left his face as he brought his finger to his mouth. She watched as he put the digit in his mouth and cleaned the frosting off. Gillian's mouth formed a slight 'o' as she watched him savor the taste of the homemade frosting.

"Delicious." He said, his gaze falling back to her eyes, "But, then again, _you _made it, so I had no doubt." Innuendo coated his words and Gillian's eyes widened at his implication.

She felt arousal course through her body as Cal scooted close to her on the couch—

"Know what I mean, Foster?" He asked, his voice a dangerous mix of humor and seriousness—all coated in thick desire.

Gillian was rendered speechless by the imagery he brought forth—and by his proximity—and most certainly by the hungry look he was fixing her with.

Cal watched the emotions flash over Gillian's face and he smirked because it was clear that she certainly _did_ know what he meant.

His hand reached out and touched her hair, and the gesture brought her crashing back down to earth.

Cal watched as her brow furrowed and her lips pursed and she shook her head slightly, trying to will herself out of the incredible arousal-induced stupor she felt in at the moment.

Cal had known Gillian long enough to know precisely what she was thinking—she was thinking of the _line_ she'd drawn between them. The line she'd drawn _for_ them—and, Cal mused, the line she'd drawn in spite of them.

Cal could see it plain as day, the moment thoughts of propriety overtook her—she was overcome by thoughts of the line, and Cal thought it funny how incredibly important to her it was—he smiled strangely as the thought came to him, it's as though she _worships_ the line.

With that thought, Cal moved his hand to the back of her neck—Gillian tried to pull away, but Cal chuckled—amusement on his face as his grasp tightened and he leaned in so that he was simply inches away from her.

Yes, Gillian worshiped the line.

Cal let his fingers lightly caress the tender skin of the back of her neck, but his voice was rough and stern and full of arousal when he spoke next,

"Darling," he practically growled, "we are obviously separated by denominational differences."

* * *

_To Be Continued._

_I'm thinking next chapter will be the last chapter in this saga._

_And for those unfamiliar- Cal's last line in this chapter is from "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown." Making lines from childhood movies sexy- shame on me!_ xD

Thank you for your lovely reviews along the wayyy. They are more helpful than ever as of late because I find my inspiration waning.

Word-

N.


	10. Welcome, Indeed!

Gillian registered that Cal was quoting the movie, which made her smile, but her face scrunched up in confusion, even as his face was mere inches away from hers, his breath falling in short gasps against her face.

"What?" She asked, her voice coming out in a higher pitch than she wanted it.

"The Line, Foster," Cal said dramatically, his fingers taut on the back of her neck, "You worship it." He said, leaning in closely so they were nearly nose to nose. Gillian could smell the frosting on his breath as he spoke, "And for years, I've played along—gone along with all the rituals, stood up and down and left and right," Cal continued, his metaphor taking particular flourish, he sighed, "but I'm tired of it, Gill—I want to—" his eyes beheld amusement, "_convert_." Cal's lips curled into a smile. He was obviously pleased with himself and Gillian would have laughed at his expression had she not been fighting a war with nausea.

She'd be lying to herself if she said she'd never thought of—_converting_—as Cal put it. But as she took in the feel of Cal's hand on her neck, of his breath on her face, she wasn't sure she could handle it. Suddenly, she recoiled from his grasp and she stood up, and moved away to the other side of the coffee table. Putting distance between them, she tried to clear her mind.

Gillian recognized the feeling overtaking her body—fight or flight. She felt the adrenaline pumping through her veins, and she felt the distinct tingle in her feet and she wanted more than anything to run. It took every ounce of will power within her to keep her feet planted to the floor. Cal was making her confront the issue head-on. Gillian shook her head. The truth of the matter was that she'd been in a relationship with Cal for years, and it had been one of the most painstaking and heartbreaking of her life—and they weren't even romantically involved. Gillian didn't like to admit it, but her heart was sometimes more fragile than even she expected—and Cal had held it in the palm of his hand for years without knowing it. To change the nature of their relationship now would be to relinquish control completely, and Gillian wasn't sure she was ready for that.

"No." Gillian said, her back to Cal, "No, we can't." She said with forced finality as she turned on her heel to look at him. She expected to meet a look of shame—a look of defeat, perhaps, and at the very least a look of disappointment. Gillian, however, did not receive any of those particular looks.

Instead, Cal stared at her from his sitting position on the couch, his gaze holding the same fire and intensity as before. In fact, as Gillian observed him, she thought his eyes looked as though they were even more intense than they had been previously—he was displaying desire and absolute determination. She nearly shuddered as she fell speechless when Cal looked her up and down, hunger evident in his stare.

"Why not?" He asked, pinning her with his eyes.

Gillian faltered under the absolute intensity of his gaze—"Because—" she stumbled, "Because it's not a good idea." She finished, her hands falling at her sides. She acknowledged that her response was lacking, but the way Cal was looking at her shook her to her core and she was amazed and proud that she could manage to form sentences, coherent or otherwise.

Cal smirked, "Yes it is." He said, matter-of-factly, and he looked poised to move from the couch. "It's the best idea I've ever heard." Cal replied, his voice dropping even lower.

"No," Gillian said, shaking her head "It's not." Her voice was unsteady.

Cal smiled—he would humor her, "Why not?" He tilted his head and squinted slightly.

Gillian sighed, her stomach heaving up into her chest, "Because, Cal. We work together." Cal rolled his eyes, she glanced away from him, "Because it…" she trailed off, "Because it would be hard." Gillian finished as a lump began to develop in her throat.

"You're not kidding, love." Cal said, innuendo dripping from his words.

Gillian felt her breath catch in her throat, and the tears that were making their way to her eyes stopped dead in their tracks as she felt her pulse quicken as her body registered Cal's words. Cal was the only man she'd ever met that could make her feel so—_raw_.

Gillian chanced a glance at him and she could tell that he was thrilled with himself—he was obviously reading her and he knew what imagery was going through her mind, and he knew, without a doubt, what he did to her. Cal could see the desire and arousal written all over her face—along with the worry. He hated seeing that there, but decided that for the sake of both of them, he must do his best to ignore that bit.

Shifting slightly on the couch, Cal hid a snicker—only one thought was running through his mind—I'll let her know what she does to me.

Gillian was silent a moment, not trusting her voice—her instincts were right because when she started to speak, there was a slight tremor in her voice and even she could hear the trepidation coupled with arousal flowing through them, "It's not a good idea." Even she was unconvinced by her argument.

"It is." Cal said, a gleam coming to his eye.

"It's not—" she began, and before she could finish, Cal was off the couch and standing in front of her, a feral, wild look in his eyes.

Gillian gasped as he walked her back toward the wall, snaking one hand out to clasp her neck firmly even as the other wrapped itself around her hip—Gillian gasped as she felt herself come into contact with the wall—it was gradual, not a slam, but enough to jolt her. When she looked into Cal's eyes, she saw his pupils fully dilated, and she knew, without a doubt, that her eyes mirrored his. Her gaze fell to his lips, which held one of his patented smirks, and then back to his eyes.

Cal dipped his head and leaned in close to Gillian's face, his lips inches from hers, "I thought," He began, his voice rough and gravelly as he pressed his fingers tightly into her hip, "little girls always believed everything that was told to them…" Cal said, his voice trailing off as he placed a tentative kiss at the corner of her mouth.

Gillian felt a rush of heat course through her body at the contact and her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. Cal's eyes followed movement as she ran her tongue across her lips, and then, unable to control himself when faced with the sensuality of the action, he groaned. The sound emanated throughout the room, the savage noise hitting Gillian in the stomach and traveling decidedly downward. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly at the sound, trying not to concentrate on her own body. She felt completely on edge—and if she allowed herself to concentrate on their points of contact, Gillian was certain she'd be overwhelmed. Instead, she let the heavy hum of arousal spread languidly throughout her body.

Laughing sensually, Cal created another point of contact between them by pushing his hips forward into hers. Gillian's eyes rolled slightly back into her head as she gasped,

"I thought," he said, emphasizing the word with a slight pull on her neck, "little girls were innocent and trusting." The words Cal issued weren't sexy in the slightest, but the way he uttered them made them count among the hottest words Gillian had ever heard. They were so sexy, in fact, that they made Gillian's knees go weak, and had Cal's body not been pinning her against the wall, she very well might have fallen over.

Gillian opened her mouth as another wave of arousal passed through her body, but Cal had barely finished speaking the sultry words when his lips crashed onto hers.

Gillian felt a steady heat in her stomach as Cal kissed her—it was rough, rougher than it'd been with any man previous. The kiss was so full of desire from the beginning that Gillian began to tremble as the desperate, aching need for one another pulsated between them.

Cal had wanted her for years—and he let that piece of information slip into his kiss.

Cal paused for a moment and then smiled against Gillian's lips, pleasure that he was finally kissing her overtaking him, before he resumed kissing. His hands traveled to her hair, and Gillian wrapped her arms around Cal's back as her hands found their way into his hair, by route of running up his back with a firm pressure that made Cal shudder. Gillian felt Cal's muscles tense and release under her palms from beneath his shirt, and she added her nails as she made the final journey up his neck—her hands settled in his hair, and she tugged lightly.

Cal's tongue traced her bottom lip and she opened her mouth, allowing him entrance. As their tongues touched, Gillian let out a moan and Cal subconsciously pressed his hips harder into hers. They tasted each other, explored each other's mouths, and when Gillian tentatively took Cal's bottom lip between her teeth and ran her tongue over it, Cal felt his heart stop momentarily.

He hadn't thought it possible, but his hunger and desire for her increased, and he deepened the kiss—and they stood, Gillian pressed up against the wall with Cal's body, making out like horny teenagers as the moments passed by.

Finally, Cal pulled away and rested his forehead against hers, his arms moving to the wall behind her. They stood panting for a moment, each trying to calm their nerves as arousal hung heavy in the air around them.

Cal spoke first, "Bloody hell," He breathed, "That was the sexiest thing I've ever done."

Gillian smiled brightly, recognizing that Cal was telling the truth.

Suddenly, though, Gillian was struck with the urge to clear her head—Cal's kissing, Cal's proximity was muddling her brain, allowing her no thought processes.

Cal watched as the expression on her face changed, and he wasn't the least bit surprised when she ducked out from under his arms.

He watched as she retreated to the couch and leaned pensively against the arm. Cal spun around and leaned against the wall, his hands at his sides.

Their postures couldn't have been more different—Gillian crossed her arms in front of her body, her hands holding on to her sides. Cal's palms faced the wall, his fingertips resting against the plaster.

Gillian's brow was furrowed and she was deep in contemplation. She took her time, thinking, and Cal watched as her faced tensed and relaxed and then tensed again before she asked, "Now what?" her voice sounding distant even to herself.

"Has it really been that long, love?" Cal teased.

She looked at him and rolled her eyes, not in a position to receive his attempts at humor in kind. She was feeling raw and exposed.

Gillian sighed, "I mean it, Cal—what now?"

Cal shook his head, "No, love. That's not your question." He tilted his head to the side.

Gillian's eyes widened slightly, and her hands tightened their grip on her sides, "Fine. Why now?"

The question seemed similar, but they were quite different. Cal knew what she was asking and why she was asking it. Cal pressed his lips together, his face in repose, yet he kept his hands against the wall. He wanted Gillian to know that he was open—that he was ready.

Cal shrugged, "Because I'm bloody _tired_ of waiting." Cal looked at her until her eyes met his—and then he let everything he felt seep into them.

He watched as Gillian registered shock and then her eyes crinkled slightly as a small smile came to her face. Times like these made Cal thankful for his science, made him particularly thankful that he'd taught the science to Gillian—it meant that he didn't have to ruin anything with words.

Gillian looked at him—she considered his posture, knew that he was doing it on purpose. Cal did everything on purpose. Her mind studied the events that had brought her to this moment—Emily inviting her over, Cal asking her to stay, and she felt her heart pulled in a familiar direction.

Smiling, she walked over to Cal, "Okay." She said when she reached him.

"Okay?" He repeated, flashing an expression of happiness.

Gillian bit her lip and nodded.

"Happy Halloween, darling," He said, his hand reaching out to caress her forearm.

"Happy Halloween, Cal," She said, searching his eyes.

Cal tilted his head to the side and looked at her again—understanding passing between them as their lips met again, gentler this time, but still underscored by the underlying passion that had been silent between them for years.

As the kiss began to heat up, Gillian slipped her hand in between their bodies and felt Cal through his pants—

Cal gasped at the contact, and his body flooded with intense desire. Smirking, he spoke against her lips, moaning slightly as he began to speak, "Foster, I thought little girls were innocent and trusting." Sex pulsed off his words in waves.

Gillian let out a short laugh, "I do trust you, Cal." She smiled a devilish grin as her hand grasped him firmly, "And I'm not so innocent—" Cal shuddered as he felt her hand around him—his head dipped to kiss her again. She returned the gesture, then, her hand still on him, she smiled and spoke against his lips, "Welcome to the 21st century."

"Welcome, indeed." Cal said, capturing his lips in hers.

Gillian felt Cal's hands travel her body and she wondered precisely how long she'd been waiting for the moment. Deciding to think no longer on it, she returned to the task at hand—Cal Lightman.

* * *

**FIN**

_A/N: I must say, I'm rather sad to see this story go! Now, for those unfamiliar, the lines Cal and Gillian exchange are from "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown."_

_Linus and Sally are discussing The Great Pumpkin when Sally expresses doubt._  
_Linus: "I thought little girls always believed everything that was told to them. I thought little girls were innocent and trusting."_  
_Sally: "Welcome to the 20th century."_

_Also,_  
_Thank you all so much for your reviews for this story! For everyone who said I made their day or brought them out of a bad mood with an update-or that I inspired you to go pumpkin patching or carve pumpkins or watch the movie or eat chili or bake- THANK YOU._

_I write for the reviews, truly-so, the gratification y'all gave for this story was overwhelming. _

_Some of you have asked me about various other holiday stories and my answer is not a yes, but it's not a no. I could be persuaded, perhaps. So, we'll see!:D_

_I know many of you were looking very forward to this chapter-I hope it did not disappoint._

_Drop me one final line before you go?_

_"If there is a lack of compassion in the world, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other." - Mother Teresa _

_-Natalie_


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